


An Open Door

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abandonment, Betrayal, Co-workers, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Moria, Mystery, Romance, Royalty, Same-Sex Marriage, Second Age, Secret Children, Secrets, Transgender, comments are welcomed, different cultures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doors of Durin is well known, but what was the reason to create them? This is the story of Celebrimbor and Narvi in the Second Age of Middle-earth</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Hello, old and new readers! Welcome to a new story of mine, which I hope that you will enjoy. This time we will be following the lives of Celebrimbor and Narvi, the famous co-creators of the Doors of Moria, in the Second Age of Middle-earth. A good tip to the readers: It will be easier to understand some parts of this story if you first read my three stories known as the Rûsa-AU: Painful Meetings, Sins of the Past and Tears of Blood, seeing that some of the characters from those stories will be mentioned here as well!

It was the the Second Age of the Sun. Things had been reasonably calm in Arda since Morgoth had been thrown into the Void by the Valar a couple of years earlier. At the moment, nearly all of them were at the mansions of Manwë and Varda for a rare meeting of simply spending time together.

“Even if he is finally behind bars, I still cannot really relax for some reason. It...almost feels like a foreshadow of something that will come…” spoke Oromë as he moved a chess piece. He was playing against Tulkas, who actually tried to not cause too much trouble for once. While he was not that good at sitting still, Tulkas made an honest attempt to remain focused.

“What do you mean, brother?” Nessa asked from where she was helping Yavanna to tend to an injured bird. Oromë did not respond at first, seeing that he needed to watch one of his chess towers from being taken.

“He likely feels that this is not the last trouble we have seen from Morgoth and his followers,” summarized Námo in a sudden voice as he showed up out of the blue, causing his fellow Valar to nearly jump in fright.

“ **AAAAAAH!** ”

Oromë hardly felt the need to complain when Tulkas, in fright, knocked over the chess board at hearing Námo.

“I hate when you and Irmo do that, Námo! At times like this, one can almost mistake you for another one of the _fëar_ which you are in change of down in your Halls...what is wrong?”

First now when he had removed his hood it was seen that Námo looked rather tired, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he had not been getting enough sleep for a couple of days.

“You try and get enough sleep when the two oldest sons of Finwë, their many brats and some new visions of the coming future are not allowing you to get any sleep...Yavanna, is Aulë in his mansions? I really need something strong to try and get myself knocked out for some much needed sleep…”

This was not the first time Námo had complained like that about how the Houses of Fëanor and Fingolfin behaved in his Halls, so the other Valar chose to simply let him pass. After all, it was not like that Námo meant any harm in trying to drink something strong, he simply needed some extra help with his sleep problems at times.

“Yes, he is in the forge,” Yavanna spoke without looking up from the bird in her lap, as she tried to heal its broken wing.

“If you need my help, brother, just tell!” called Irmo from his place and got a faint hand wave as thank you from his brother.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

In a more private part of his Mansions, Aulë was sitting at a table and working on something that seemed to be some kind of paint job as he had several small jars with painting colours on the table in front of him.

“Possible to request something strong for sleeping, my friend?”

The Smith Vala did not look very surprised at seeing Námo sit down at the table so he faced him, or how exhausted he seemed to be.

“Just let me finish painting this one and I will give you something.”

A final brush stroke with a deep green colour, and Aulë put down the small stone figure on the table beside several others. They were so small in size that they easily could fit in a Vala's palm. Námo, who had placed his head in his palm during the wait, almost smiled at seeing what it was.

“Some of your newest Children?”

“Aye, those who I plan to become the newest generations.”

If it was anything to make Aulë happy, so was it his Stone Children, the Dwarves. As their Maker breathed on them, the small Dwarves started to move and look around. They did not have any voices to speak with yet, but they still had the curiosity and charm of young toddlers. In fact one of them, a cute little white-blonde one with dark skin, was even brave enough to waddle towards Námo and trying to pull on a lock of his black hair. Námo laughed a soft, tired laugh at seeing the small Dwarfling make several attempts to climb up in his hair.

“I am afraid that my friend's hair is not the best thing to climb in, cutie,” smiled Aulë and freed Námo from the Dwarfling with a careful hold on the Dwarfling's green tunic and placed a cup of steaming hot tea on the table.

“Thank you.”

“I added some alcohol in it so you can sleep more easily. You really need a break from babysitting all those dead people once in a while,” Aulë said while quickly preventing another one of the Dwarflings from falling over the edge of the table.

“Why do you think I came here to borrow that guest room you have made for visits like this?” remarked Námo with one raised eyebrow before drinking the tea and then entering the guest room. He was really tired, and thus it did not take long before Námo had fallen asleep. Aulë sighed, before covering his fellow Vala with a blanket.

“Things really has gone south in so many ways ever since we in our fooliness allowed Morgoth to be free again…”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

A couple of hours passed, before Námo woke up again from his nap, now feeling somewhat more rested. He and Aulë had just joined the Valar in the wast garden outside Varda's mansion, when they suddenly felt something different, a new and rather odd smell, in the air around them. It was not Manwë doing that, as he had raised from his chair at sensing the difference.

“Aulë, are you or one of your Maiar burning some sort of weed around here to clean out the air?” asked Yavanna in confusion while she wrinkled her nose over the smell, as her husband normally never did that.

“Really sure that it is not young Aiwendil this time, honey?” she got in answer from where he was. That Maia of hers was rather infamous among them for being somewhat simple-minded yet kind soul and not always focusing on what he has for task in his hand. On the other hand, Oromë was already seeing that Aiwendil was with the other Maiar around the place and did not do anything strange.

“Ai, Nienna! You are almost crying literal rivers of tears from whatever it is in the air!” Ulmo commented at seeing what was going on with her and made a clumsy attempt to lessen her tears with some of his water powers, althought that only caused her to become dripping wet and cry even harder even if she did stuttering attempts to thank him for the kindness at least. More than one of the Valar was now coughing a bit and Manwë tried to clean the air with his powers.

“What is going on...wait…”

They all stopped to move for a bit.

“Is you feeling what I am sensing too?” whispered Varda in a quiet voice, as if she could not believe what she was sensing.

“No way…”

“It really is…!”

They looked on each other for a moment.

“ _FATHER!_ ”

Abandoning what they currently were doing, the Valar rushed away, forgetting anything about acting like the Gods of Arda as they were. In this moment, they were young children again, eager to find their father.

“This way!”

As the Huntsman of the Valar, Oromë led the way around the mansion while following the strange scent.

 

Now a voice could be heard singing, and the way in which he spoke simply was charismatic and captivating for any listener:

_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost;_

_The old that is strong does not wither,_

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring;_

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken,_

_The crownless again shall be king._

It was a man of age, whose almost white hair tended to be a bit unruly at times.

He could be described as a man with eyes of depth but also full of wisdom, wit and humour, sparkling when he told stories or thought of things that please him. Although of age, something about this person could be described as still being youthful. The strange smell which the Valar had felt was actually the scent of tobacco he was enwrapped in because of his pipe. He smiled a friendly smile at hearing a voice calling:

“Faaaaaather!”

Perhaps the Valar had been a little too excited at sensing the aura of Eru Ilúvatar, for one of them ended up tripping on a tree-root and ending dragging several others with him in the fall, landing in a pile at the feet of their father. Ilúvatar laughed in a kind way at the rather amusing sight, the wrinkles round his eyes showing by the movement.  

“ _Long time no see, my dear children._ ”

Ilúvatar showed no signs of being annoyed when the Valar tried to get free from each other.

“Get of me…!”

“Would you people mind getting of me, please?”

After a couple of minutes of strugging, the Valar managed to get free from one other and stood up so their Creator could grab them all into a group hug.

“ _You have grown so much  in wisedom like I last saw you._ ”

“Grown much in wisedom? I would not exactly say that, not with how things has turned out, especially after everything with my brother…”

Manwë listed several bad things that had happened ever since the first time that Morgoth had woved his strange thoughts into his song, making his song clash against the Theme of Ilúvatar, disturbing the Ainur around him and causing some of them to attune their music to his. Once Manwë had finished talking, the other Valar were quick to voice how they had felt about it as well. Ilúvatar listened with the patience of a father on what they spoke, nodding at times to something and drinking a cup of the tea that Estë had offered him during the wait for her turn to speak.

“...and therefore, I say that we should try to...Father!” protested Tulkas when Ilúvatar gently placed the now empty tea cup on his head with one hand as a unspoken request to his most warlike son to stop talking.

" _Aulë, Námo. Neither one of you two have spoken yet. Is something wrong?_ ” asked Ilúvatar when he saw them stand a bit away. Neither one of the Vala seemed willing to talk in front of the others. Sighing at seeing how hesitant they were, for He knew when it was something that troubled His children, Ilúvatar signaled for Aulë and Námo to come with him.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

“ _Something is deeply troubling you, Aȝūlēz. I see it in your eyes and body language._ ” Ilúvatar spoke, using Aulë's name in Valarin as he placed his hand on Aulë's back like how he often had done during the Music of the Ainur as the Valar had been born from him and grown up. Aulë sighed in a defeated way, before picking up something from a bag he wore in his leather belt. In his hand, laid some of the Dwarflings he had been creating earlier.

“I am deeply saddened by the events in the First Age, Father. Not just because of how Morgoth tainted Arda so much and how Mairon refused to come home to me again, but also because of how things had gone so sour between the Firstborn Children and my Children of Stone…it is a great grief for me to know that the new generations of my children might never know the glory days of friendship between their people and the Firstborn...”

In his mind, he remembered the horrible events of Thingol being killed by the Dwarves of Nogrod when they entered a fatal disagreent over the Nauglamír and the Battle of the Thousand Caves. He regained his focus when he heard Námo say:

“...not to complain about Luthien and Beren now Father, but the tales about them has given other young people, especially mortal females, the very silly idea of being able to plead to me to allow them to be together forever in death...claiming that their parents will not allow them to be together with the men that they love for reasons that are actually very legitimate. Often those girls fall for youngsters that are not good for them…as if those crushes can be compared with true love...”

Ilúvatar patted Námo's head in a silent apology for indirectly causing more trouble for him, before looking at Aulë.

“ _Your sorrow is understandable, my Smith-son. Althought your Children of Stone were not part of the original plan for Arda, I have seen what important roles they will come to play in the battle against Shadows. As for the lost days of glory and friendship between them and the Elves in the First Age...I plan to have that change, if the two of you are willing to listen to this idea I have._ ”

Both Aulë and Námo looked up at their Father in confusion over his words. Bending down, Ilúvatar carefully picked up one of the Dwarflings from Aulë. Tiny enough to be half the size of the thumb on the All-Father, the Dwarfling instinctly searched for Aulë as all the Dwarves knew their Maker by sight and his paternal love.

“ _You've seen the damage words can do, when full of thoughtless pride. Anger and hurt blooms deeply from such deeds, especially when greed gets mixed into it as well. And yet, there is a chance of healing as well. Specific individuals can be able to see past old belief when they get a change to see things in a very different light. It is them we need to protect in times of mistrust and enmity. Say...if a Dwarf and an Elf were to fall in love with each other. If a such relationship were to bloom, I will allow the Dwarves to become alive in Valinor as well and letting the different members from the House of Fëanor be reborn long before the Final Battle._ ”

Aulë first looked really shocked, then changed like he actually had been given some sort of hope, while Námo facepalmed.

“Well, I see no reason why we should not try that out, at least once. Just...no more of all that “star-crossed lovers” thing, Father. It was enough trouble when Luthien came after Beren, and there are some of Finwë's descendants who found their One in mortal women…”

However, it was heard in his voice that Námo was willing to test this out, and the grateful look Aulë gave him spoke much of his feelings about his fellow Vala's words.

“ _Love is a bittersweet thing, my Judge-son. But do not worry. I believe that I have chosen the right Elf for this relationship. I will not blame you for getting shocked when you see who the Elf is, but try and trust me in this. There are some who need to get free from their past and blood ties, which they only can find with someone who does not care about the family history._ ”

The tiny Dwarfling crawled around in Ilúvatar's hand, having spotted Aulë and felt somewhat more safe at seeing him close. Yawning, the little Dwarf laid down for a nap on the palm on which the young one was held. Ilúvatar smiled, before breathing gently on the sleeping Dwarfling and a small golden light started to shine around the Dwarfling. As Ilúvatar then sent the Dwarfling away as a spirit to find the chosen parents which Aulë had picked out, the other Valar arrived.

“Father, what did you just do?”  

Ilúvatar only smiled at the question, while he did lit his pipe again. This time they were more prepared on the strange smell and Manwë fixed a soft wind to gently blow it away.

“ _Just fixing the first steps on a new path, my children._ ”

Then, Ilúvatar slowly started to be transparent.

“Fa…!”

“ _Have no fear. It is simply time to me to return to the Timeless Halls after this visit. But I will try and visit more often in the future._ “

Even if they did try and act in a mature, none of the fourteen Valar really managed to hide their sadness over that their father and creator would leave again so soon. Yet they felt a comforting happiness over knowing that Ilúvatar would come to them on a surprise visit in the future as well. As Ilúvatar walked past them, he patted the Maia Olórin on the head and said in a fond voice while pulling up the hood over his head:

“ _Do not try and duel against any Balrogs before it is time for the Fellowship of the Ring, young Gandalf._ ”

Both the Valar and present Maiar gave Ilúvatar puzzled looks over his strange words. Once the All-Father had vanished, Nienna gave Olórin a serious look that made her seem rather frightening despite her tears over that Ilúvatar just had left.

“Have you been trying to leave Valinor for Middle-earth, Olórin?” she asked in a low, dangerous voice to him.

“N-no, my lady! Not since the War of Wrath at the end of the First Age!” yelped Olórin as he nearly tripped backwards in slight fear at seeing this very unusal behaviour from his otherwise very quiet and calm mistress. On the other hand, Aulë saw how Curumo, one of his own Maiar, seemed to be boiling out of pure anger for some reason.

“Curumo? What are you doing?” wondered Aulë in confusion, as Curumo normally never behaved like that. The Maia got all red in his face and turned around with a snort. Aulë sighed, mentally hoping that he would not lose another Maia to the evil of the world.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

A couple of hundred years passed. Until one late winter day in the year 750 of the Second Age in Orocarni, a mountain range in the far east of Middle-earth and home to four of the Dwarven clans:

“ _AAAAAAAAGH!!_ ”

The painful scream echoed from inside the birthing chamber, for there was one Dwarrowdam named Ala in the full work of giving birth. It was not the first time she did this, for she was to be a mother of two with this new child. But it did not mean that she was more prepared for the pain this time, since it was little over 30 years since her first childbirth and just because of how much time that had passed, this pregnancy had been a big surprise for the family.

“For the love of the Maker...Balder! You are not going to be allowed to touch me in bed for the next five years, you hear me!?” she snapped while one of the midwives told her to stop screaming and focus on pushing instead. Her husband Balder, who was waiting in a side room with their 30-year-old son Odin, tried to not shudder at his wife's words as he lit a pipe to calm down himself.

“Is it supposed to take this long, Adad?” asked Odin nervously as a new scream was heard from his mother inside the birth chamber. Almost as if she had been hearing her grandson, Balder's aging mother Frigga looked out from the chamber for a moment to say:

“It is much you do not know yet about the world, grandson of mine.”

Odin could only nod to his grandmother's words. A few more minutes passed. Then, finally, the first cry of a newborn could be heard from inside the birthing chamber.

“A girl!”

“It is a little girl!”

The joy over it being a living child, was mixed with double the joy over that it was a newborn girl; for the Dwarrowdams were only one third of the Dwarven race and thus every new girl born among the Dwarves was worth far more than what any non-Dwarf possibly could understand.

“Balder! Odin! Get in here and meet our new family member.”

Once the little girl had been washed and wapped into a baby blanket, she was placed in her mother's waiting arms so her father and brother could enter the birthing chamber. Like her 30 year older brother Odin, the infant girl had inherited her father's golden hair and his genes for pale skin had given her a lighter skin tone than Ala's black skin.

“Look at her, beloved Ala. Mahal has granted us one of the highest honors we can have: being the parents of a daughter,” spoke Balder in a tender voice, almost to the point of tears in pride, as he carefully held his newborn daughter. At the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes and made a small sound without really starting to cry.

“What will you call this lovely little lady?”

“ _Narvi._ Her name shall be Narvi.”

The newly named baby girl started to cry softly, making Balder give her back to Ala so she could nurse Narvi and in doing so, giving her the first meal in life. After finishing nursing and being gently burping so she would not get a belly ache later, Narvi yawned in tiredness before she fell asleep, for both mother and daughter was much exhausted after the hard work of birth. None of the Dwarves in the chamber heard a soft, invisible whisper from the All-Father Himself:

“ _Now, little one. You have a task that can bloom into a new era of glory between the Eldar and the Children of Stone. Bloom with your whole spirit and may you soon know the wisdom only time breeds. Bloom and bring your colours to the vast bouquet that is my Children. There's room to grow in skill, bloom in life, and learn one thing; Your gifts are meant to be shared even with those outside your race. May you succeed in bringing life and joy to someone who really needs it._ ”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, far longer northwest in the Elven city of Ost-in-Edhil, the capital city of Eregion:

Celebrimbor looked up from the small altar he hade made for his dead family members, the lit candles giving the room a soft light.

“What...is this strange feeling?”

He did not know exactly what had caused him to stop lit the candles the moment before, but for some reason it did not feel like something bad. Rather, it felt like a omen of something good that would be coming to him in the future.

“Whatever it is, I hope that it might be something that will help me stop feeling so lonely ever since so few of my relatives are still alive…”

Looking out on the night sky, Celebrimbor saw that it was a full moon outside. The sight caused him to smile faintly in a sorrowful manner, as he turned back to the altar and sent a long prayer to Námo that his paternal family would be allowed to be freed from the Halls in a not too far away future. As the years had passed since the War of Wrath, Celebrimor had come to fear that he never would be free from his background as the grandson of Fëanor and the sins of his family they had had commited in the Three Kinslayings. Even if he never had been part of those events or raised a weapon towards another Elf, Celebrimbor still felt as if his own hands were covered in unseen blood from the horrible deeds of his family and that he would never be able to clean his hand free from the sins of the past.

“So much death and grief, for three cursed gems my grandfather made…”

Sighing, Celebrimbor picked up one of the few remaining drawings of Maedhros that she had allowed to be made of herself in the First Age, then another one: A hand-drawn portrait, in the kind of parchment used for portraits, in profile from the person's left side. The Elf captured in the drawing was a male, with an unkempt mass of dark red hair and a V-shaped scar on his left cheek along the jaw line form his left ear. But what one really got captivated by when looking at this portrait, was that it was a completely merciless gaze in his black eyes. Side by side, the two drawings showed that Maedhros without the slightest hint of possible doubt, even with how scarred she was after her time in Angband, was the mother of the male Elf.

“ _Aunt Maedhros...if only we had known what really had happened in Angband much earlier, would we have been able to help you get your child back? My unknown cousin Rûsa, who was taken from you almost straight after that you had given birth to him?_ ”

Even if he had only known about his cousin for about two days before both Maedhros and Rûsa had been killed after that Rûsa had tried to escape from the Noldorin camp by using Maedhros as hostage, Celebrimbor still felt that it should have been something he could have done to prevent their deaths at the end of the War of Wrath.

“I am so horribly sorry for how it ended that day when both of you died, aunt Maedhros...I really wish that we could have freed my poor cousin from Angband long before he had been shaped into the feared Warg Rider of Morgoth…and I cannot even imagine the horrible pain and grief you must have felt at learning that he was your own son...” Celebrimbor cried bitterly at the memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Yes, it was Professor Tolkien himself who made a guest appearance as Ilúvatar. And yeah, poor Námo is not too pleased over the chaos that happens in his Halls with Finwë's many different descendants for several reasons. Finally, many warm thanks and hugs to a special Facebook-friend from Finland, whose small and very funny drawing gave me the inspiration for poor Námo constantly being awoken at 3 o'clock in the night because of a new fist-fight between Fëanor and Fingolfin in the Halls


	2. Marriage offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Marriage offer for a Dwarrowdam is an very important moment

Year 800 of the Second Age. It was a normal day in the Dwarven city, built in sand coloured bricks, limestone and white clay to have the houses stay cool in the heat of the day. The merchants selling their goods, workers being busy with their job, the scents of food, perfumes and other things were mingled in the air alongside song, laughter and talking. Dwarves of varying ages, skin colours, social status and fashion style walked around on the streets of cobblestone.  

“Ala, is Narvi here yet? Refusing to show up at her first marriage offer is going to deeply offend the lord who sent the offer for this meeting,” said another Dwarrowdam in a knowing voice as she went back inside a building. It would not be the first time a Dwarrowdam from this city refused to be a bride to this Dwarf-lord, yet he never seemed to understand why they never liked him. Sure, he was a kind personality and of a good social status thanks to being a minor noble, but his main fault was that he was already over two hundred years old and therefore growing more unlikely to be able to father a heir for every year. Ala sighed behind her red face veil, marked with golden embroidery as a sign on that she was a wedded Dwarrowdam, while wringing her hands.  

“Of all days to be late...I know that she is just five years after coming of age and still has her whole life aheard of her, but now I worries that this behaviour will cause trouble for her...the first marriage offer is so important, even if she does not end up a bride right now...I should have prayed to the Maker for luck!” worried Ala as she looked around for her daughter and still no sign of Narvi. She knew that it was most likely that Narvi had ended up in her workroom and simply forgotten time, but it was no good excuse in important matters like this!

“What luck could the Maker have given her? He cannot favour Narvi alone out of all us Dwarves!” replied Frigga with rolling eyes. She was not really much in favour of letting Narvi possibly stand as a bride yet, not just because of her granddaughter's still fairly young age. It was other, more personal reasons to why Frigga did not want Narvi to ge married.

“Grandma! Amad! Look what I have found.”

It was the youngest member in their family, 30-year-old Loki, who came running forwards them. Ala facepalmed at seeing how her younger son was dressed. Loki wore one of his sister's old dresses and belonging veil which she had worn in the same age. She knew that Loki was one of the Dwarves who was transgender.

“My, what a handsome young lady you look like, my dear boy.” Frigga smiled in pride at seeing Loki, while Ala whispered for herself:

“Please do not encourage him, grandma…”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, inside a small working room;

Narvi took a step back to look on how her creation, in the shape of a pair of hands, seemed so far. It was good for a start, but she knew that it could look even better.

“Hmm...I need to smooth it out.”

At the age of fifty, Narvi was fully grown in terms of body shape since about twenty years back. Her hair and beard, which had been golden at birth, had paled in the hot southern weather and turned white-blonde over the years, giving an even greater contrast in colours to her dark skin and deep green eyes. She was reasonable curvy by Dwarven standards in both bosom and hips, her job as a stone worker also adding some muscles on her arms. Narvi was also rather tall for a Dwarf, standing on five feet in height once she had finished growing. In the center of her forehead was a small white circle, a simple face paint which she had placed there just to add some more colour contrast on her face when she wore a veil outside. Her beard was still rather short for her age, but it was genes for slow beard-growing in the family on her mother's side, so no one worried too much about it. But just as she put the chisel to the stone to start working again, a voice called:

“Narvi! Narvi, are you in here?”

The heavy steps revealed it to be Odin. Narvi signed deeply in irritation as she heard him come closer to her working room.

“What is it, older brother? I am busy here.”

Odin snorted. He had overheard heir mother say that Narvi was going to be late to the marriage offer meeting if she did not show up to be dressed up in her formal clothing soon.  

“Have you forgotten that you have your first marriage offer today, sister?”

Narvi did not answer, she was already back on focusing almost solely on what she was working on. Not bothering to warn her, Odin simply walked up and tossed his sister over his shoulder to carry her outside.

“Hey! Put me down, you oaf!”

With Narvi being noticeably taller than him now in adulthood, situations like this current one tended to be somewhat amusing for the rest of their family because of the difference in height between the two oldest siblings.

“No, we will not have you cause trouble for our family again in public just because you wants to focus on your work more.”  

Narvi swore a few Dwarven curses in anger from where she was lay helpless over one of his broad shoulders and gave Odin some notable difficultly in carrying her out from the house in that manner, especially as she reminded him that it would be horribly improper for her to be seen without a face veil. It was akin to seeing a human lady in her undergarments in Númenor for the Dwarves.

“Do I have to remind you that letting other male Dwarves seeing me without a veil is very rude, brother!?”

Narvi added some extra weight in her point by promising to tell their grandmother about this.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Thankfully, it was not too late for them to fix Narvi up for the meeting. Poor Ala could not hide her less than pleased face at seeing her daughter's state of dress, despite showing a proud smile at Odin actually ensuring that his sister would come; Narvi was dressed in a rather old dress of hers, her face was slightly covered with stone dust and while her hair was braided, it was on the way of getting loose.

“Amad, do I really have to…?” groaned Narvi as Odin finally put her down on the ground, to which her mother sighed:

“No protests now, sweetie. This is a very impotant step in your social life as a grown-up Dwarrowdam. Remember, you do not actually need to aceept the marriage offer, but it is proper to at least gently refuse face-to-face with the offer giver. Not giving a answer face-to-face is horribly rude.”

Narvi chose to be quiet at hearing that, as she was led inside a bath chamber to be freshed up quickly. Even if both her mother and paternal grandmother always had helped her in matters like this, it still did not mean that she actually felt ready fo this meeting. If Narvi was to be honest, so did she not think that marriage was something for her, at least not yet because of that she had only came of age five years ago. She liked the idea of the partnership and love in a marriage, that much was true, but what if she never found her One? Or worse, she did actually found him and he was not some for marriage or, her absolut worst nightmare in terms of a marriage, her One already being in love with someone else? Those three fears alone was the background to why she tried to bury herself in her skills as a stone worker, to avoid a possible heartbreak. And it was absolutely no honor at all for a Dwarrowdam in being a concubine to someone in Dwarf sociality; only male Royal Dwarves could have a royal concubine to get heirs if their legal wife was unable to have a child.

 

“Not the red dress, Amad! It is not the most flattering colour on me like you!” complained Narvi at seeing which formal dress her mother had chosen for this event, as her hair was being combed and set up in a more formal style after being dried with towels. Ala only raised a eyebrow in displeasure at the complaint.

“Nonsense, Narvi. It brings out your white-blonde hair and green eyes,” she assured with self-assurance in her voice.

“Not as much as her light-green or pale blue dresses,” muttered Frigga under her breath, giving her younger grandson, Loki, a look to show her point as he tried to figure out which eyeshadow he could use without being mistaken for his older sister.

“Loki, _please_ go back home and change into your normal clothing! Boys, both of you, don't be in here for now, we need to focus on your sister!” begged Ala in a stressful voice, shooing out her two sons though the door. Narvi felt a small guilt in her belly at seeing how stressed her mother was at the moment. It was not Ala's fault that they had a somewhat difficult relationship, out of the parents Narvi simply was closer to her father and having a transgender son was not easy for Ala as she was unsure if she should treat Loki as a second-born son or a second daughter.

“Sorry for stressing you, Amad…” Loki spoke in a low, regretful voice before the door was closed after him. Finally, Narvi was ready for the meeting: She was dressed in a light red dress with golden embroidery in the shape of flowers, and wore a set of sapphire-based silver jewelry, family heirdooms from Ala's own foremothers, to draw a contrast to the red dress.

“There, you are ready,” Ala said in a fond voice, making Narvi give her a nervous smile.  

“One moment. Just this final detail for some extra luck so you won't mess up too badly in case something unexpected happens, young lass,” requested Frigga and drew a set of light blue twin crescent moons, one on each side, on her granddaughter's cheeks which would be hidden under the face veil later. Narvi was graceful in her own way, it was just when it came to important events like this that she could mildly panic at times without warning and suddenly worry that she was not feminine enough.

“Lets hope that it will go well…” Narvi whispered, mostly for herself, in a quiet voice as the veil was fastened in front of her face.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Logically seen afterwards, it did go well. The formal greetings were easily fixed, and to show that Ala's lessons in being a host was not in vain, Narvi could offer two glasses of lemon drinks with ice without spilling on the table. One could forgive her for getting slightly distracted out of boredom when the Dwarf lord started to talk about his forefathers, for she normally was not one for listening on a long list of lineage and former glory days for this and that dwarf ancestors.

“Well, miss Narvi, this is what I can offer in a marriage: Loyality in the marriage bed, a big and good household to be the mistress of, financial help to your family if they ever happens to be in need of extra money outside the bride price, social connections that your two brothers could use for their careers, and of course, wealth for the rest of your life even at becoming a widow.”

Narvi blushed slightly behind the face veil at the mention of the marriage bed. Even if she had gotten some part of the Talk around the time Loki had been begotten since she was twenty years older than her younger brother and then a full version when she had started her female moon circles as a sign of that she had become a woman, it did still embrass her somewhat to hear about such things. While she was far from naive about different parts of life, it was neitherless often things which felt very private.

“You are rather quiet of you, miss Narvi. Are it already someone on your mind who you wishes to marry?”

“N-no! Nothing of that kind, my lord. I was just thinking of what I had planned to shape on the stone I was working on before this meeting.”

She could almost literally feel that this meeting was getting nowhere. He was far too old for her, and she was not the kind of Dwarrowdam who would fit as his wife.

“My Lord, I thank you very much for giving me this offer of marriage, but I am afraid that we are too different in so many ways. I fear that a marriage between us would not make either one of us happy in the long run, so I have to thank no to your marriage offer.”

She bowed deeply as thank you for meeting him and to signal that it was over.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Once Narvi had returned home and changed out of the formal dress after washing off the makeup, she only took on one of her green everyday dresses and did not bother with braiding her hair back into a braid after freeing it from the formal style. Sitting down at the dinner table of polished stone, she sighed deeply.

“Grandma Frigga will be happy over that I will not marry yet, but amad will be a different story...I miss adad, I wish that he was home already from that business trip of his...”

With her father Balder being a very successful merchant, it was not unusual that sometimes he could be gone for months on business trips before he came back home to his family. Suddenly a large glass with lemon ice-water and a small plate with a huge yet horribly detailed cupcake was sent to stop in front of her.

“I heard that we will not lose you to a suitor yet, sis.”

Loki. Naturally she was the one to say such things and be happy over that marriage offer had been turned down, given how close they were despite the age difference of twenty years between them.

“How come that you, who show such talent at baking, is a catastrophe the moment when it comes to the final decoration on what you bake and when you shall present your work to someone? It was only the first one of many marriage offers that I will get in my life, Loki. I am very likely to be given more over the coming months. We Dwarrowdams tend to get marriage offers all the way up to the age of two-hundred years when we are too old to become pregnant. So I will face this in the coming one hundred-and-fifty years,” Narvi answered as she laid a arm around her shoulders. Loki laughed softly at hearing that. The odd mix of her skills in baking and being totally unable to make her creations look nice with cream and such on was a running gag in the family ever since her first attempts on it at a younger age.

“I know. Which is why I am happy right now. Odin was so sure that you would accept the marriage offer that he looked ready to bag about that our sister was going to marry into nobility.”

Narvi snorted, before starting to eat the cupcake. She was used to the very weird-looking result of her younger brother's baking skills and did not mind how it looked anymore since a long time ago.

“If Odin wants to have marriage ties to nobility, he should try and hook a noble-born Dwarrowdam himself! Besides, I despise nobles ever since Grandma told us about how things really were between her and grandfather. I know that not all nobles are bad, but her life-tale has soured my views on them.”

Loki fingered on the hem of Narvi's old dress, trying to not make it fall down without the support of a bosom and reveal how flat-chested she actually was thanks to being born as a male.

“I agree on that. Besides, I know that you have a type, dear sis. I have seen how you look at the nearly bare blacksmiths when we pass by the city forges.”

Narvi blushed slightly at the words, but she knew that Loki never would blackmail her.

“Make a big cake to celebrate my un-betrothal to dinner and I will give you four of my old dresses. We also needs to fix some new cloth-padders so it looks like you have some female curves upwards on your chest. Really, the Maker must have put your soul in the wrong gender when you were begotten twenty-one years ago, little brother-sister,” Narvi said with a knowing look, using her special nickname on Loki to show how she had accepted his transgender behaviour from the start. And why not? Loki might be a male Dwarf in body, but a Dwarrowdam at heart, much to the endless annoyace of Odin who had wanted to share his warrior skills with a younger brother given how rare Dwarrowdams were once it had been revealed that Ala had been pregnant with a third child twenty years after Narvi.

“That, or the Maker simply did not foresee that my body was going to be a male one!” Loki grinned and and left for the kitchen while Narvi looked towards her half-finished stone work in the working room.

“A blacksmith husband, huh? Oh yes, very likely...I only need to find him first, even if it so will take the rest of my life to find him!”

With that, Narvi finished the last of her lemon ice-water and went to keep working on the stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Amad means Mother in Neo-Khuzdul, adad means Father. For those who know a little about Norse myths, you will likely spot where the names of the family comes from. The name of Ala comes from the female Alusi (deity) of the earth, morality, fertility and creativity in Odinani, so it is meant to be a symbol of how my female Narvi is Scandinavian-African in lineage in this AU story. Loki being a transgender male-to-female is meant to be a hint to the poem Þrymskviða where the Norse Gods Thor and Loki needs to dress up as a bride and bridemaid in order to trick a giant who had stolen Thor's powerful hammer Mjöllnir and wanted the Goddess Freyja to be brought to him as his wife if they wants the hammer back.


	3. Call to the Misty Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi's life is changing when a important message from Khazad-dûm arrives

Two days later, Narvi watched from under a apple tree how Loki was busy in keeping herself hidden from Odin, who was rather displeased with the flour prank she just had played on him.

“That's what you get for being insensitive about sister's newest piece of work!”  called Loki from a safe place up on the house roof, while Odin remained on the ground below as he was not as good on quick climbing.

“For the last time, Loki; I am a soldier, not a fellow artist like you two! And come down from there before anyone sees you in a dress!” Odin commented in answer. Narvi did not bother to look up from her book, she was used to scenes like this between her two brothers since Loki was old enough to start doing such pranks. Looking down on the book pages, she found one of her favorite sayings about the difference between the different Children of the Allfather:

_Elves are like trees, tall and deeply rooted in nature. The race of Men are like the seasons, each age in life having a different beauty. Dwarves are like distant mountains, mysterious and often unknown for strangers._

“Boys! Stop that right away! You are not young children!” Ala scolded from a open window in the kitchen when she saw what was going on between her two sons. Even if they were weathly enough to have servants, neither Ala or Balder had grown up with that kind of luxury and there was no way that they would have their children do that.

“Yes, amad...oh?”

As he was about to climb down, Loki spotted something on the street. Or rather, someone who the sibling trio had not seen for nearly half a year.

“Adad! It is adad! Adad Balder is home!”

Odin got a new surprise by Loki suddenly jumping down and landed in the older brother's arms so poor Odin collapsed to his knees under the unexpected new weight.

“Where?! Where is adad!?”

Narvi had now gotten up to her feet as well, leading the way out of the garden to catch a look of her father Balder.

“Out on the street, sis!”

Balder had barely opened the gate to enter the garden, when he saw Narvi come running towards him.

“AAAAAADAD!!”

“Hello there, my dearest girl. How has things been for you all while I have been away? I tried to come home in time for your first marriage offer,” smiled Balder and hugged her, not bothered at all over that his daughter was taller than himself.

“Sis is not betrothed yet despite that her first marriage offer was two days ago, if that is what you are wondering about, adad!” called Loki as she came over, quickly followed by Odin behind her. Balder laughed at seeing his two sons arriving, and smiling when his wife and mother hurried out from the house as well, having heard the calling about Balder returning home. Ruffing the hair on his sons, Balder then focused on the ladies.

“Amad Frigga, dear Ala.”

Kissing them both on the cheek, Balder led the whole family to the house for some family talk and sharing news about what had happened under the four months that he had been away.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

“What happened during the journey, adad? Please tell us,” begged Narvi as they all sat down around a stone table outside the house. Ala had brought ice-water for them all to drink.

“Well, mostly the usual stuff that happens when I am away for a business trip. Selling and buying different goods, making up new contracts of sale…”

Even if neither one of his three children had shown any sign of becoming a merchant like himself, Balder was still proud of them. He had built up enough of a small wealth to both give Narvi a good dowry to the day that she might be married and still leave more than enough money to his sons and wife the day he happened to answer the call to the Halls of the Forefathers. Besides, all three of them had enough skills to add their own part to the family wealth; Odin as a warrior in the city guard, Narvi in her skills as a stonecutter and Loki had just started his seven-year-old period as apprentice in the local bakery, so logically there was no need to worry about money for the family on six Dwarves.

“And as always, I have brought something home for all of you: Odin, here is one of those daggers I know you have been wanting for a good while. Amad Frigga, the amber stones that I know you love so much. Ala, a new set of silver ear-rings for you. Narvi, a history book about the First Age for you, it took me a good while to find that one so please try to nor wear it out too early. And Loki, here is a recipe book with more northern bread and cakes that I know you like to do.”

“It is to remember where grandmother comes from!” Loki breathed in eagerness as she took the book. Frigga was not very fond of speaking of her past before she had came to the Orocarni from the Blue Mountains when she was very young, outside the fact that she was from the Broadbreams and that it was her less than agreeable relationship with Balder's father that had caused her to move to the Orocarni in the first place as she had been orphaned in her mid-twenties because of a cave break-in that had killed nearly all her family of mine workers.  

“I know, Loki, I know.” smiled Balder after quickly glancing towards his mother to see if it was all right that they mentioned her birth place. Judging from the look she gave him, it was all right.

“All right, everyone, lets allow your father to rest after the journey…”

A signal horn were suddenly blown in the air, a signal that the families were requested to come to the local square.

“By the Maker, what could this be about? Last time I checked, the wife of our town leader had her second baby just last month, so it could not be anything of that kind of news…” wondered Ala while Balder gently pulled her along to come outside. Seeing that Frigga was old enough to be a widow and actually saw herself as such after leaving Balder's sire despite that he had still been alive when she left the Blue Mountains, she did not have to wear a face veil like her daughter-in-law and granddaughter.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

It was some messagers from the town leader who had arrived at the square, riding on ponies as per their role to give information from the town leader when he could not do so himself. The six-person family carefully took a place where they could stand together.

“Good people and fellow Dwarves. It have come a very important message all the way from the Misty Mountains: The heir of Khazad-dûm, the future king Durin II, is seeking for a bride outside Durin's folk! By this request, seven unwed Dwarrowdams from each Clan who has come of age in the past fifty years, are to travel together with their fathers to Khazad-dûm and the chosen bride-to-be shall be revealed on Durin's Day. Those Dwarrowdams not chosen as the royal bride will be allowed to either return to their homes, or staying in Khazad-dûm to find a husband or make a career there under royal protection.”

This was very rare indeed, for a such request to come all the way from the north. And the possibility to become a Queen Consort of Durin's folk! That was a chance you only could get once in life, as there was no custom among the royal Dwarves that a younger brother would take over the widow of his brother if the firstborn prince passed away before his father.

“As it is diffcult to choose seven Dwarrowdams from the records alone, the chosen seven were selected by drawing lots. Three of the chosen names from the Blacklocks came from this town, the other four have already been chosen in the two towns around.”

Holding up a small list, the other messager started to read out aloud:

“ ** _Chipo of the Turay family!_ ** ”

A black-skinned Dwarrowdam dressed in white clothing, only ten years older than Narvi herself, stepped forward from where she had half-hidden herself behind her father. As she bowed her head in humility, she was given a scroll with the official invitation to be one of the bride candidates.

“ ** _Sayo of the Rama family!_ ** ”

The next named Dwarrowdam was in Narvi's own age, but seeing that she just had gotten betrothed the very week before, her father stepped forwards to take the scroll instead:

“Sayo has just entered a betrothal of her own choosing, but thankfully we have also been blessed with her sister Hathai who came of age last month.”

Having more than one daughter in the same family when they were so rarely born, was indeed seen as a blessing from the Maker himself. True to his word, the father handed the scroll to his younger daughter, who shyly bowed her head in humility from where she had hidden behind her older sister. Now there was only one bride candidate left to be named.

“ ** _Narvi of the Asar family!_ ** ”

At the mention of her name, Narvi could hear Loki whisper faintly in fear:

“No…”

Yet despite her own fears inside her heart, Narvi straightened her back and stepped forwards to take the scroll. Even if she did not personally want to be a candidate for a royal bride, she knew that it was a honor that would only happen once in her life. And if she was not chosen, she could use the chance to possibly become a Master stonecutter in Khazad-dûm.

“It is a great honor of being chosen as a possible royal bride.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time far away in the North, Ost-in-Edhil:

“Lord Celebrimbor? You have a guest.”

Celebrimbor looked up from the metal piece he currently was shaping into a hunting dagger.

“A guest?”

To his joy, it turned out to be Elrond.

“It has been a while since our last meeting, dear cousin.”

“Indeed it has,” Celebrimbor said, smiling fondly and laid his working toys aside before he embraced Elrond, his travel clothing allowing Celebrimbor to do so despite a fair amount of soot on his hands. It was a ongoing private joke between them to call each other cousin, seeing that Celebrimbor's uncle Maglor had adopted Elrond and Elros in all but name. Since Elros had died 358 years earlier at the age of 500 years thanks to choosing the Gift of Men and Maglor having been sent to Aman for healing after Maedhros died, Elrond and Celebrimbor were now the only ones left in Middle-earth who could still defend the good points of the House of Fëanor.

“I guess that Gil-galad sent you here to check on things, or is there a special reason for you to come?”

Almost like a answer, Celebrian just passed by with some of her friends and Elrond tried in vain to hide his blush as he glared towards where she had vanished. Celebrimbor only chuckled for himself, he knew that Elrond had a serious crush on Celebrian but was so painfully shy around her that he barely managed to speak. Oh well, sooner or later he would find enough the courage to reveal his feelings for her. And really, it was no big deal in secretly helping Elrond to give her some simple gifts that Celebrimbor had made on Elrond's request: A pair of ear-rings in a fitting gemstone that brought out her silver hair, maybe a brooch for her winter cloak.

“Both, actually. I had already planned to come here to visit you, so His Highness Gil-galad asked me if I could do him a small favour while I was here anyway. After all, no matter what people says, your uncle did foster me and Elros despite how we first ended up in his hands.”

Celebrimbor's smile became sadder at the indirect mention of the Third Kinslaying. He could still remember how he had gone numb in shock as he had read the barely legible letter from Maedhros, in which she had told him that his twin uncles Amrod and Amras had fallen in battle during the events in Sirion.

“And yet I am glad that he did so, for otherwise it would be much more difficult for me to remind people that House of Fëanor was not always the Kinslayers they ended up becoming thanks to my grandfather's good-for-nothing, threefold damned Oath…”

To calm himself down before he did something stupid, Celebrimbor picked up his forge hammer and started to hammer down on the hunting dagger again. Elrond knew better than asking why, it was with great grief he had seen how Celebrimbor actually was ostracized in many ways, all because of the simple reason that he was a grandson of Fëanor. Elrond himself and Elros had also felt some of it in their younger years during the War of Wraith, mostly thanks to having been raised by Maglor after the Third Kinslaying.

“And people wonder why Gil-galad never punished me and Elros too harshly when we told him that the main reason to why we happened to beat up other Elves was because they insulted _the real family_ we had grown up with.”

Most of it had gone away over the years as he had grown up, but a small part of Elrond still despised how his parents, especially Elwing, had chosen the Silmaril over their own twin sons. A Silmaril which, by all logic, actually was a heirdom from Fëanor to his children.

“Well, he and his lady mother, her highness Queen Dowager Rilel, were not too fond of the untruthful rumours that aunt Maedhros was a secret concubine to lord Fingon, so I guess that he remembers how things were between them in friendship.”

With a final hammer stroke falling down and then holding it in cold water, Celebrimbor finished the hunting dagger.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

That evening during dinner, Narvi could not bring herself to eat much of the food even if it was the classical dinner Ala and Frigga always made to celebrate Balder's returning home from a business trip. In seven days, she and the other six bride candidates from the Blacklocks would be leaving the Orocarni together with their fathers and chosen body guards to travel to the Misty Mountain. Only seven days left, before she possibly would her home for the rest of her life. All of suddenly, Narvi felt just how young she still was, given that the Dwarves could live up to the high age of 250 years. Her current age of 50 years, were only a fifth of that life-span.

“If I am to travel to the Misty Mountains, I might never return home…will I never see my friends, my familiar suroundings, this house that is my birth home..again?”

Suddenly Narvi lost her appetite completely. Without saying anything, she placed her cutlery back on the table and left the dinner table while the rest of the family watched her. Loki made a attempt to follow after her older sister, had not Balder stopped her to placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Let your sister be alone for now, Loki. She needs some time to think over this.”

 

Narvi walked upstairs to her own bedroom. Being that kind of person who liked keep things simple despite that she belonged to a reasonably weathly family, she didn't have much belongings if you did not count the bed, a rather big wardrobe containing all of her clothing, a writing table with a belonging chair and three bookshelves filled with books. A small chest of drawers in a corner contained materials for writing and her jewelry. Almost every centimeter of the whitewashed walls were covered with large drawings to various projects as she had done with coal in her younger years.

“I am afraid of what might happen if I arrives to the Misty Mountains...if I meets my so called _Grandfather_ or someone else of his line who might actually recognize grandmother Frigga's green eyes that I inherited from her, what could happen? Will the ugly truth about my paternal grandparents be revealed in public and bring our family name down in the mud? It was just to avoid that kind of shame, that grandmother left the Blue Mountains...huh?”

Something strange was seen in the night sky above her. Some of the stars seemed to form a shape she had not seen before. As Narvi looked up to get a better look though the window, she could have sworn that the shape looked like something from her dreams.

“ _An eight-rayed star?_ ”

Normally Narvi did not remember much of her dreams when she woke up in the morning, but one thing she had always remember no matter what; An eight-rayed silver star, stained with blood. In her childhood, Narvi had originally been afraid of that dream image but nowadays she had gotten used to it and saw it as strange if she did not see it in her dreams once a week.

“Whatever it is, surely it must be some kind of omen, like grandmother Frigga tends to say…”

Sighing, Narvi pulled the silk curtains together in front of the window so she could dress out of her clothes and go to bed for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Chipo is a African name meaning “gift”, which seemed to fit a Dwarrowdam because of how rare they are. Sayo is a Japanese female name meaning “born at night”. Hathai is a female name meaning “heart” in Thai. Elros died in the year 442 of the Second Age, when he and Elros was aged 500 years old, after having been King of Númenor for 410 years. Why Maglor was allowed to return to Valinor and not walking along the shores of Middle-earth as in canon? The answer can be found in my first story set in the Rûsa-AU, Painful Meetings, chapter 5, 6 and 12. As for what Celebrimbor means by the rumours about Fingon and Maedhros, see the flashback in chapter 23 in Tears of Blood


	4. Start of a journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi leaves her home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Remember, good readers, that I am having Loki as a transgender male-to-female, so I am writing Loki as “she” and “her” as a sign of that Loki is a female in in both heart and soul despite of her gender assignment as a boy at birth.

The following days went quickly, far too quickly for Narvi's personal taste if someone were to ask her now when she knew that she soon would leave her home land. 

“Narvi...sister…”

She looked up, it was Loki who had spoken. She sounded like she was going to cry. Seeing this Narvi held out her arms so she could catch Loki.

“I-I do no want you leave, Narvi! I know that being a possible royal bride is among the highest honors a Dwarrowdam can have in her life, but I do not want to lose you! What if our whole family is unable to move to Khazad-dûm for some reason and we never gets to see you again?!”

Narvi sighed as she hugged her younger brother. Being twenty years younger, Loki was a lot more openly emotional than herself and theremore more likely to act like this. 

“I know, Loki. I do not want this either, but it might be the change of becoming a Master that I have longed for ever since l first learned of my talent for stone cutting. And even if I am not that interested in actually getting married...I am not going to put down a chance like this to widen my world.”

Loki could not really hide a small whine in protest from where she held her crying face into Narvi's chest. Narvi, on the other hand, did not scold her. This was hard for them all, especially as none of them knew when they could meet again. 

“Narvi? Loki? Are you both upstairs?”

“We are coming, amad.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

That evening, the whole family stayed together inside. Ala had even taken time to cook Narvi's favorite chicken meal to give her a good last memory of her birth home if it so happened that she would become the new Crown princess of Durin's folk.   

“The change of a life-time, and yet it is painful in its own way…” sighed Ala as she softly played a song on her oud. Balder, who smoked on his pipe, laid back against the pillows beside her.  

“I know, but we have to see the good of it as well. Our Narvi has a change of seeing the world it would be difficult to give her otherwise.” 

No one protested against that. They all knew that the world was a very dangerous place for a lone Dwarrowdam, especially if she did not have any kin to protect her and there were several good reasons for why Dwarrowdams normally never left the Dwarven strongholds or underground cities. Frigga, who had been very young when she came to the Orocarni, was an exception because she had had a very serious reason to leave her birth home in the far north. While Balder's father was part of the reason, it was not all of it. 

“Aye, that I do agree on. And if I have managed to read the signs right, Narvi will meet some people who will become very important for her in life during this journey.” 

Frigga was rather good at reading different signs for fortune telling, and while she had not the job of a fortune teller, she had some skill in telling things that often came true at some point sooner or later. 

“Really, grandmother?”

Somehow, this bit of small news brought up a fire inside Narvi. Maybe it was some new friends, or allies she meant? Given how rare they were, it was not too surprising that the Dwarrowdams in the different clans living here in the Orocarni had made up an indirect network of penpals with one other, sharing news of what happened around them and such.  

“Yes. Although I can not see exactly who they are, they will enrich Narvi's life. Especially one of them, but I can not really see which one it will be.”

Frigga sighed, somewhat disappointed in that she could not see the full shape of what she had seen for her granddaughter. One thing had always been visible at least, and it was a grand door in a mountain. The moment Narvi had shown signs of possibly becoming a stone cutter Master in her adulthood, that door had been seen for her. 

“Lets hope for the sake of us all that we won’t run into my father if he still is alive…”

At Balder's indirect mention of his father, there was a darker mood in the room for a few seconds. No one in the family were fond of the very unpleasant circumstances that had made Frigga leave her home at such a young age, especially Balder, who was not particularly proud of the Dwarf who was his father. 

“If you happen to do that, ignore him. And if you are able to, please knock him out as a long-delayed greeting from me,” commented Frigga as she raised a book in front of her face. No one bothered to remind her that she was holding her book upside-down, Balder's father was a very touchy subject for her.

“Oh, you can trust in that, grandmother,” promised Narvi from the corner where she, Loki and Odin was playing a game of trying to get seven small clay balls in the same colour first. A small giggle revealed that Loki had won the first round.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

After a small talk that he always tried to have once dinner was finished, Celebrimbor bid the servants good night and went to his own chambers for the night. As always, he would be praying at the family altar and spend some time to think of his dead family members before he would go to bed. 

“It is already more or less the exact date of eight-hundred years since the Second Age started...three-and-eight-hundred years since I last saw my aunt alive and last living uncle being sent back to Aman for healing…”

Even after all those years, Celebrimbor still could not get it into his mind that all of his direct family members were gone from Middle-earth. His grandfather, father and four of his five uncles all gone to the Halls of Mandos by being slain in battle, his only aunt dead in a most likely attempt to protect her own son from being killed in front of her very eyes when she had learnt that he had actually been alive all along. And his uncle Maglor had snapped into madness at the sight of Maedhros laying dead on the ground, still holding her dead son in her arms as if she had wished to embrace Rûsa even in death.  

“Is there even a small chance for me to find a way that can remind people that my family are not monsters? Of the glory and pride of the Noldor we once were? Will there ever be a creation from my hands that will never be tarnished by the blood of the three Kinslayings? 

Sighing, Celebrimbor held up a circlet that once had belonged to Fëanor himself and held it against his forehead as he tried to remember how Fëanor had been back in his very early childhood, the kind and gentle way he had held his grandson with. A moment of mental wondering, he then placed it on his head. As already expected, it was slightly too big for him, even after all those years, and the circlet slid down across his bridge of the nose, halfway covering his eyes as well. 

“I will never be him...I might be his grandson by blood, but I will never be able to match my grandfather in skill…” 

But at least Celebrimbor did his best to heal the damage made by the Oath his family had sworn, so he would not complain too much. And if his feelings was right, something good might happen soon. 

“Yet, my current freedom here in Middle-earth is tainted by the loss of my family…”

Celebrimbor knew that he was not to blame for his dead family members dying as they had done, but a part of him still wished that it had been something he could have done to at least prevent Maedhros and his cousin Rûsa from being killed at the end of the War of Wrath as he had been away away from his family when the Second and Third Kinslayings had happened.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next day, it was time for the departure. Narvi and the other two Dwarrowdams were dressed in white travel clothing, for the weather was much hot here even during winter and therefore it was better to have clothes that kept you cold in the heat. 

“Even if we knows that we all can ride,” said Balder, who was in charge of taking them to Khazad-dûm, “it is easier for you ladies to travel inside the carriage where there is some shade provided by the large cloth against the sun. And despite that you three were requested to pack only two sets of travel clothing along with two dresses to wear at the royal court, it can still be a little heavy for the ponies.” 

“We understand, sir.”

Chipo, Hathai and Narvi was now sitting inside the carriage, trying to catch as much of their home town as they could, because they knew that it was a very possible chance that they might not come back there. They had already been saying their last good-bye to their families and their travel group would meet up with the other bride candidates at the road towards the Misty Mountains.

“All right, everyone ready?”

“Balder, wait a moment or two, please! I have something for Narvi!”

It was Frigga who called to her son as she hurried over towards the pony-drawn carriage with the three young Dwarrowdams inside.

“Grandmother?” wondered Narvi in surprise and leaned out though the window to talk to her. She still had her green veil on, so there was no need of worrying about her face being seen by the male Dwarves.

“Here, take this. It was especially made for you ever since your birth in case a big marriage chance like this would ever happen,” Frigga spoke as she gave Narvi a small box. Narvi, who knew the shape to be a box for jewelry, opened to take a look. She gasped at seeing what it was inside the box; a full set of wedding jewelry for a bride made out of gold and emeralds. 

“Grandmother Frigga, those emeralds...but they are  _ yours _ ! The jewelry you were given as your last birthday gift before your family died! They were meant to become  _ your _ wedding jewelry!”

Frigga just smiled a gentle smile of sadness and a knowing look at her granddaughter's surprise.

“And yet you know very well why I have never used them, little sweet-stone. No, it is better that  **_you_ ** use them if you ever stands a chance as a bride, Narvi. You have always been far more wiser than what I was in the same age and I holds no doubt that you will not make the same mistake as l once did in my long-gone youth. If anything, l know in my heart that you will find your One before you knows who that person is, Narvi. Once you knows, do not lose your chance of happiness with that special person.” 

Narvi's eyes were still wide in surprise as she listened on what Frigga said. Could it be that her grandmother had sensed something extra about this journey to the Misty Mountains and that her life would chance in relation to someone else she had yet to meet? Even if Narvi normally did not think much on romance and marriage, she still enjoyed the idea of a One for herself even if she might never meet that person in her life, for the seven Dwarf clans was very large in number and with Dwarrowdams rarely leaving their birth clan or place of birth, it would not surprise Narvi at all to find that it was more common than what one would think.

“...I understand, grandmother Frigga.”

It was all Narvi trusted herself to say, or she would have started to cry in fear that this might be the last time she saw her beloved paternal grandmother alive: her father Balder was already 195 years old and given that Dwarves could live up to 250 years, Frigga was very old for a Dwarf. And that did not involte the scandal of her youth which Frigga had allowed only her family members to know about. The truth about her and Balder's father. 

“We are leaving!” 

They could not waste more time, they had to leave now. It was with great grief that Narvi let go of her grandmother's hand as the carriage started to move. 

“Big sister Narvi! If you end up staying in the Misty Mountains for one reason or another even if you do not marry the crown prince, we will move over there as well! You will see us again before you know it!” called Loki from where the families of the three bride candidates was gathered together for the good-bye.

“Yeah, it will be less lively without you around, Narvi,” muttered Odin in a sad voice for himself under his breath as the carriage went further and further away. 

“And keep a eye out for that eight-rayed silver star, sweetheart! It might be a good omen for you!” added Ala as a last call to her daughter as she tried to not cry. Narvi smiled a tear-eyed smile at the words behind her green veil and together with Chipo and Hathai, waved good-bye to their home town until that it was out of sight. 

“So our journey finally starts…” breathed Hathai with a giggle in excitement. Well, it was no wonder that she was a little like that, since with her 45 years she was the youngest one in the trio. 

“Yes, but we will only make ourselves unhappy if we turn into rivals for the crown prince already at the very start of the journey and long before we even arrive to meet him for real,” said Chipo in a careful voice as she looked on the other two Dwarrowdams in the carriage. 

“I agree fully with you both. Let's leave the thing of being rivals on the shelf until we actually have arrived at Khazad-dûm,” Narvi suggested and held up her hand. Nodding in agreement, all three of them shaked hands as a sign of a new friendship starting.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: The oud is a pear-shaped stringed instrument commonly used in Middle Eastern music. The mentioned chicken meal is meant to be based on Flying Jacob (Swedish: Flygande Jacob), a Swedish casserole that consists of chicken, cream, chili sauce, bananas, roasted peanuts and bacon. Maedhros died in First Age year 587, so it would be 803 years since her death in Second Age year 800. As for the mentioned scandal in Frigga's past with Balder's father: that will be revealed later in the story!


	5. The attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi is not blind for the horrors of the world

“A band of outlaws are attacking lone farms and kidnapping young girls and women?” Celebrimbor asked in shock, sharing a surprised look with Elrond and the other Elves present. They had originally been out on a ride to hunt down orcs and a pack of wargs which they had gotten raports about for a while. Right now they were in a inn in a small town of Men for some rest under a roof and warm food.

“Yes. I do not know the exact details, but one thing is for sure: The rest of the families are killed and more than four farms has been attacked by those people so far. Going by the fact that the targets are young girls and women, we suspect that there is some form of slave trade….no, no, my lords! We do not have **_that_ ** kind of house of pleasure here in this town, or our own wives would be quick to show what they feel about it!” explained the innkeeper nervously at the dark looks he got from the ten Elves. It was a good point, a small town of Men like this, where most were farmers and only a handful resident merchants, would not have been able to support a such place as it would not be enough visitors. The town were small and not much of a trading post for outsiders.  

“A hidden slave trade here in the north by the race of Men? That explains why there was guards and the making of a wooden wall around the town…I do not like this kind of news,” said Celebrimbor in a serious voice as he set down his glass on the table. Elrond nodded, knowing what Celebrimbor meant. Even of the Elves did not rule over the Second-born living around, they still saw it as their duty to protect them from threats. The innkeeper took away their glasses on a tray, wiping the table clean with a rag as he did so.

“Oh right, I almost forgot...there was a huge company of Dwarves that stayed here for two nights until yesterday, about 77 Dwarves in total if I have not counted wrong. Something about doing business with the dwarves in the Misty Mountains. Well, they clearly stood out anyway, for they clearly was not from around here in the north! Southerners from the way they dressed and acted, mark my words!” the innkeeper said.

“Dwarves from the sourthern lands? And in a such huge number? Unusual, indeed.”  

Agreements from the other Elves came at hearing that comment. They had gotten letters from Khazad-dûm that a special event in the Line of Durin this year would draw many groups of Dwarves to the Misty Mountains, so they would know why they happened to meet many Dwarves on the roads to the Misty Mountains this year.

“Looks like it will be a storm later to the evening. We better stay here at the inn until that we have brought enough food for some more days out on the hunt for orcs. Perhaps we even might find out some more about those outlaws who causes such worrying trouble around.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, a day journey on horseback away:

“Is it just me, or is there a strange smell of smoke in the air, adad?” Narvi wondered as she looked around from the saddle on one of the ponies, as she had wished to ride a bit instead of sitting inside the carriage. So far, the long journey to the Misty Mountains had gone well. While it took some months to travel, only the mere opportunities to see so many new places and sights were worth it all. Sure, the changes in weather and temperature could not be helped, but Narvi had also made several friends among the other twenty-seven Dwarrowdams who had been sent as bride candidates.

“No, sweet Narvi, you are right. There is a strange smell in the air coming from the west,” answered Balder as he looked around. Other Dwarves in the company had also noticed it.

“Smells like an awfully big fire, if you ask me. And look, there is a lot of smoke coming from that way too.”

“But surely the season for getting rid of dead leaves and such by a bonfire must have passed? I mean, it is already late spring here, almost the start of summer, unless…”

“An attack close by?!”

Even if they were not always warriors, Dwarves would rarely ignore something like this. For all of their somewhat bad reputation thanks to the events in Doriath during the First Age, they did not always stand aside if someone needed help.

“If so, we needs to help them!”

That was all the warning Narvi gave the other Dwarves, before she suddenly rode away.

“Narvi, wait! Come back here, you can not ride away like that on your own!” commanded Balder in worry as his daughter rode past them in the front. Narvi had a big heart, always had since she was just a wee litte Dwarfling, but it was times like this that Balder feared that it could get her in danger.

“For the honor of the Maker, girl, listen to your father!”

 

It did not take Narvi long to arrive to where the smoke were. To her horror, it turned out to be the remains of a small farm that was burning, the farmer himself and his family laying on the ground in front of their burning home, all brutally slain. The slain woman-folk also showed signs of having been violated, even the young girls. Narvi paled and felt sick at the sight.

“Narvi...oh!”

Balder said nothing when he saw what it was that made his daughter so quiet. His own horror-stuck face was mirrored by the other Dwarves who had followed him.

“Most likely the work of the band of Mannish outlaws that the innkeeper warned us about yesterday…”

Balder took hold of the reins on Narvi's pony and turned it around, no need of having her see any more of this horror that every female had to fear.

“It is sights like this, that makes me ashamed of being male…”

“Second-born of the All-Father's Children or not, those poor souls needs to be buried. They should not be laying out here like a pack of killed beasts.”

There was an underground storehouse, robbed of its residual contents of food earlier when the poor farmer and his family had been killed, that could work as a tomb now. Some surviving blankets was used to cover the bodies before they were carried inside the storehouse. Narvi took up the task of making a common rock into a tomb stone with her stone cutting toys, cutting up a simple design that was a prayer to Aulë that the dead family would be given mercy in the after-life.

“People like those outlaws should become food to orcs for their deeds!” Narvi spoke out aloud in anger and sadness as she worked, trying not to cry. She needed to focus and crying would only blur her sight during the work of cutting out the design in the rock.

“Aye, let’s hope that they will pay for their horrible deeds one day.”

Closing the door to the underground storehouse so no wild animals could enter the tomb, some of the male Dwarves then helped Narvi to set the tomb stone in front of the closed door.

“There, hopefully this will be enough as a tomb for them.”

“I do not like to be around here, we better leave once we have done the burial prayers.”

All of them felt the same, that this little farm had been disgraced by the murder on the owners, so no one protested about leaving when they could.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

A couple of hours later, when it was nearly evening, a new group arrived. Elvish horses were strong and fast, easily carrying their riders across the landscape as they searched for any groups of orcs that might be around outside the band of Mannish outlaws. Suddenly, Celebrimbor made his chestnut stallion stop because of something that they all knew rather well. Especially him, who was a blacksmith like his father Curufin and grandfather Fëanor.

“The smell of smoke? I do not like that...”

Even if they could tell that the fire must have stopped a while ago, it was still worrying to sense that it seemed like a very big fire.

“Can we afford some time to check it out?”

“Yes, it should not be too far away from here.”

 

It did not take long for them to arrive the burned down farm and seeing the clear evidence of what must have happened there. Seeing the very unpected dwarven symbol on the tomb stone, Celebrimbor dismounted his stallion to take a better look.

“We are not the first one to arrive here. Look, this is a common Dwarven symbol on tombs for those who has died suddenly and their names were not known for those who buried them. I remember aunt Nelyo mention it once back in the First Age when I visited her in Himring, something that Lord Azaghâl had told her when they spoke about the culture difference of the Noldor and Aulë's Children of Stone.”

Celebrimbor might not know that much about the Dwarves as he would like, but he did rememeber a couple of details that his family had spotted in the Dwarven culture over the years back when they had still been alive. Elrond nodded in agreement, remembering something similar that Maedhros had told him and Elros during their history lessons.

“If so, it must be the southern Dwarves which have buried the murdered family that the out-laws had killed. See, this is a similar foot-print to what I saw outside the inn earlier when we left.”

The foot-print at the tomb stone was slightly smaller and showed a different design in the shoe sole, but there was no doubt that it was a Dwarven style of shoe.

“Perhaps we can manage to...oh, great!”

A flash of thunder showed up on the dark evening sky, revealing the heavy rain that immediately started to fall down from the iron gray clouds. The expected storm from earlier had started. The group of Elven warriors needed to seek shelter for themselves and their horses until the storm had stopped, for there was serious danger by riding in such weather in open landscapes.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The small group on seven Dwarves had also been surprised by the sudden change in weather. They had been aware of the eventual storm, but they had hoped to catch up with the others before it broke loose.

“What luck we has right now, a storm and no sight of the others!”

Narvi had borrowed a long scarf to hide her face with as her veil only risked being blown away in the strong wind. As she rode in the middle, she was somewhat protected against the harsh weather but it was still as unpleasant for her father and the other five.   

“Aye, lets try and find a cave where we can have some shelter. We might have better luck in finding the others when the storm has passed.”

The sound of thunder made their ponies extra nervous, making it even harder to ride. It would be better to dismount and find a cave so they could calm down the ponies.

_THUD!!_   

Suddenly a lightning bolt hit a spot on the rocks above them. A deafening sound echoed in the air, along with a blinding light from where the lightning had hit the rock. Thanks to that, Narvi's pony reared in fright and bolted off along another path between the hills.

“ ** _NARVI!!_ ** ”

If there was anything Narvi would have to say about this day many years later when looking back, so was it certainly not one of her better days in life.

“Watch out for that low-hanging tree branch, adad!” Narvi called fearfully in a muffered voice when she looked over her shoulder for a moment. But it was too late, Balder did not manage to duck in time for the branch.

“Agh!”

Because of that his pony had been in full gallop in a attempt to catch up with Narvi's pony, Balder was knocked out of the saddle. He had the luck of landing softly with his head on a huge mass of green moss, but on the other hand, Balder fell with both his legs on a out-sticking rock. The sound of his legs breaking in the fall drowned in all the noise from the storm, but for Narvi, the sight was something that would haunt her nightmares for years afterwards.

“Adad Balder!”

Balder groaned in pain, trying his best to not scream out as waves of fresh pain shot thought his broken legs. Yet, when he tried to see where his daughter was, he saw a shadow behind her that clearly was not a Dwarf. A body too tall and slim to be a Dwarf.

“Narvi, behind you!”

The horrified scream that left her own lips when she looked over her shoulder was the last thing Narvi remembered before something hard hit the back of her head and she fell, nearly unconscious from the sudden hit, out of the saddle as both her own pony and Balder's pony vanished, galloping away into the night, never to be seen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Their first meeting face-to-face is getting closer and closer, good readers!


	6. First meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor and Narvi finally meets for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: For those of my reader that have read chapter 29 in my other story Sins of the Past, you will likely recognize a scene here that was mentioned by Celebrimbor in that chapter.

The storm ended some hours before dawn. Knowing that they already had wasted enough time, the Elven warriors and hunters tried to hurry. If it happened that the band of Mannish outlaws attacked the travelling Dwarves who had been around, if some of them had happened to get away from the others for some reason…

“Hm? Look, there is another group of riders over there.”

Riders indeed, but the horses was of the common kind often found among Mannish horse breeders here. A sign, slightly styled as a big A-letter, was seen on the cloaks to tell who they were.

“What is lord Beorn of the House of Leod, the owner of the Avalon stud farm, doing here? This is no where one normally finds him, the closest horse market is at least two weeks travel from here…”

Turning their horses slightly, Celebrimbor and Elrond rode towards the other group of riders.

“Lord Beorn! What news do you bring from Avalon?”

The front rider gave a unspoken signal to his men to remain where they were at the sound of his name, before riding to meet up with the two Elves.

“Rare is it for the Elves of Ost-in-Edhil to be around here so far away outside your city,” Lord Beorn said, “and yet I do not doubt for a moment that you must have gotten news about the band of outlaws that have been attacking lone farms lately to kidnap many peasant girls of various ages. While Avalon has not been openly attacked, several of our finest breeding mares and stallions have been stolen over the last year and found slain, to be used as mere meat for food instead of riding or breeding. They even had the nerve of kidnapping my oldest daughter Sally just outside the farm two days ago,” Beorn spoke and removed his helmet to reveal himself. When he lifted his head, his face came into view and when he pushed back his long blonde hair. gentle brown eyes appeared. For the moment, their gaze was rather fierce, though, but gentle, fierce and determined. His tanned skin was an unmistakable sign that he was used to spending much time under the open sky. Although he was still a young man, his sharp chisled features told those who came across him for the first time that he was both of a noble family and very handsome for a Secondborn without any signs of having Elven blood in his veins. He wore a beard and underneath a smile dragged on the corners of his lips when he beheld his unexpected guests. It was a sarcastic grin, but there was no doubt that they also knew how to blow a kiss upon a lady's cheek.

“Had not Qwen been heavily pregnant with our latest child, I am sure that she would have ridden after them herself to get Sally back.”

Celebrimbor, who had met Beorn's wife several times in the past on visits to the stud farm, did not doubt that for a moment about her mother instinct for her children because he had seen her.  

“Then, let’s search for the outlaws together. Yesterday, we found that they had attacked another farm and we also fear that they may have attacked a small company of travelling Dwarves somewhere nearly.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

A hour passed as they rode, trying to find a trail that could lead to either the Dwarves or the outlaws. Then, a strong smell of blood appeared in the air. Worrying strong, and it was too much to just be of one single animal, even of a big animal like a elk. And there was a sound that sounded like a voice.

“A call for help…?”

Following the faint call, Celebrimbor rode up on a small road. The sight that greeted him, was like a sudden flashback of the battles he had been in during the First Age:

Six Dwarves laid on the ground, five of them brutally slain in a manner that could have been made only by he forces of evil, with their few belongings thrown on the ground and their ponies stolen. While thankfully none of them had been beheaded, there was still other injuries that had been fatal for the Dwarves, like a stab in the stomach, or a slashed throat, or several arrows in the back. The sixth one was still alive, but clearly the outlaws had not bothered with him because both of his legs were broken. Dismounting and hoping that he had not arrived too late to at least save someone, Celebrimbor hurried over to the nearly silver-haired Dwarf. Kneeling down, he carefully said:

“Don't move, I are here to help. What happened?”  

For once in his life Balder, who had given up nearly all hope of being found by someone who heard his call for help before his spirit answered the call to come to the Halls of the Forefathers, did not mind that it was an Elf who had came. Any helper, even those who were not trusted by the Dwarves because of historical events, was good right now.  

“A attack...during the storm yesterday evening...a band of Men…”

Mentally Celebrimbor cursed as he checked on the Dwarf's broken legs. He would not live for much longer; this kind of injury was fatal from the way he had fallen on them. Even with Elrond's healing skills, they would only be able to numb the pain for him before he passed away. As if he already had guessed as much himself, Balder tried to reach something in the grass a small bit away. Celebrimbor, who had longer arms, had easier to pick up the two items so he could give it to the Dwarf. It was both one gold locket and one silver locket, which Balder opened.

“T-they took...my daughter Narvi...with them…north-west...”

Celebrimbor felt dangerously cold inside at those words as he looked on a small portrait inside the silver locket. Even with the beard, characteristic for both genders in the Dwarven race, he could tell that it was a female based on the high ponytail-style on the hair and the small hint of a dress at the bottom of the portrait.

“Please...if you can...save her...if they have dishonored her…”

The small dagger laid in his hand could only mean one thing; if the captured Dwarrowdam indeed had been violated and she was unable to do anything by herself for some reason, then it would be a quick mercy by sending her to the Halls of the Forefathers.   

“I will.”

He did not claim to understand everything in the Dwarven culture, but with Dwarrowdams being only one third of their race, Celebrimbor did not doubt that the social and personal honor of even a single Dwarrowdam would be seen as defiled if she had been violated by a non-Dwarf. In other words, the only way to regain her honor was to commit suicide or be given an assisted death with someone else's help.

“The golden locket...the one with the portraits of my wife and our three children...ask my kin at Khazad-dûm to...to send a message to my wife and sons about what happened…if Narvi will...be in the Halls with me...”

Celebrimbor held back a strained whimper, remembering all too clearly a similar request his aunt Maedhros had given him only a few hours before Rûsa, the Warg Rider, had taken her as hostage to escape from the Noldor camp:

“ _If you return home to Valinor,  Tyelpë, then...please tell your grandmother Nerdanel that I am really sorry for not coming back home…_ ”

“That letter over there...the one tossed under that branch...the proof that should allow my poor girl to...to enter Khazad-dûm if they wonders why a lone Dwarrowdam of her age is...is there without a close relative…” Balder coughed, he was getting weaker fast from the blood loss from breaking his legs. Gently Celebrimbor picked up the letter and placed it alongside the two lockets.

“What is your name, mister Dwarf?”

“Balder, son of Frigga...oh? The faded mark on your tunic…”

A faint light of hope suddenly showed in his blue eyes at catching a faint look of the barely seen eight-rayed Fëanorian silver star that was on Celebrimbor's dark blue tunic.

“What?” wondered Celebrimbor in confusion, as he only had grabbed that tunic to have as a spare on the road when he had packed his saddle bag and not seen the family symbol on it until the group were several days away from Ost-in-Edhil. But Balder did not manage to answer before his soul left his body, which became limp in Celebrimbor's arms.

“Celebrimbor! By the grace of the Valar…the outlaws attacked them as well?” whispered Elrond in horror when he saw the bodies of the murdered Dwarves.

Celebrimbor gently lowered Balder's body to the ground, before he placed the two lockets and letter in a small pocket on his saddlebag.

“First we need to do a quick burial of these Dwarves, then we have a rescue mission to do, he managed to see where they went after his horrible deed.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Currently, the Mannish outlaws was quickly finding out that a headbutt from a Dwarf, male or female, was no small matter.

“Ow! Keep her away from me, your fools!”

Thanks to Aulë being wise by giving the Dwarves strong bones and bodies when he created the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves from stone, Narvi had managed to knock at least two of them unconscious, or at least close to being unconscious, despite that her hands were tied behind her back and she was somewhat weakened from being slunged like a sack of potatoes over the back of a horse for several hours before they had reached the cave where they had their hide-out.

“Dwarves sure are heavy…”  

“ ** _HANDS OFF ME, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR MEN!!_ ** ” Narvi screamed in Khuzdul before she was roughly tossed to the hard ground in the cave. In the fall, the last few of her carefully made braids loosened up and her long hair fell around her face. With her white-blonde hair to her dark skin colour and green eyes, the contrast was noticeable, even in the faint light from the torches. A faint crying made her look over her shoulder, revealing several young women and girls who were all having their hands tied or was bound in some other way so they could not escape.

“Noisy Dwarf...oi, boss! Are you really sure that this Dwarf is worth the trouble of bringing it here?” wondered one of the outlaws while checking on the bite marks Narvi had managed to give him. Narvi gave the Man a furious glare at being refered as “it”, she knew that the race of Men did not always see the Dwarves in a good light but being likened to little less than a animal was one of biggest insult a Dwarf could be given. The leader smirked as he slowly held up a dagger.

“Oh yes. Dwarves are worth a fortune as slaves on the black market, and given just how rare **_female Dwarves_ ** happen to be…and don’t touch the womenfolk, I have said before. They will bring a higher price if they are still untouched. We can enjoy some fun with the women in a whore house once we got money for this group,” the leader warned one of his men, who was almost laying his hands down on a cute brunette. Narvi eyed the dagger nervously, not liking the way he talked. Cutting or shaving a Dwarf's beard was only accepted during the six-month mourning of a family member or when the Dwarf in question had a such serious head- or face injury that the beard was only in the way for the healing.

“On the other hand, seeing that the beard is in the way of letting possible buyers see that it actually is a female Dwarf we have here…”

Narvi tried to move further away, which was not the easiest thing to do with your hand tied behind your back. Shaving off the beard, and cutting his or her hair was also a way to humiliate a dwarf.

“Take her up to the upper level, there is not enough light in here.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Finding the hoof prints from the horses used by the band of Mannish outlaws had been surprisingly easy, careless as they were after the newest attack. It had been a little more tricky to finding their cave hideout, but was eventually revealed by their horses, sensing other, unknown horses around. Several of them bore the stylized A that was a mark of them being born and bred at the Avalon stud farm.

“Easy, girl, easy now. This beauty is one of my stolen breeding mares...thankfully, she was not to have a foal this summer as a break between having her offspring. She is planned to have a new foal next year instead,” whispered Beorn as he gently calmed down the black mare, which was overjoyed to see a familiar human again instead of those humans who were not kind at all. Celebrimbor signaled to some of the elven warriors to climb into the cave by a small opening, while he and two others took care of the guards. Beorn and his men would then surprise the outlaws from the outside.

“Everyone ready?”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

“To the endless Void with you!”

If the outlaws thought that Narvi would just allow them to shave off her beard as they wished, then they really did not know much about Dwarves. She might have her hands tied, but she still struggled with a surprising speed and strength. Since she refused to be still even with the strong hands on her body, some of Narvi's waist length hair ended up being cut instead by the dagger, becoming uneven at both sides.

“Be still, damned bitch!”

**_Slap!_ **

The hit in her face caused Narvi to fall backwards of the pain, landing dangerously close to the edge of the waterfall where this little cave was. It woud not need much to made her fall over the edge. But just as the leader had taken hold of Narvi's beard to start shaving it off, there were suddenly high screams and sounds of a battle coming from the other cave lower down to the ground.

“ _Boss! It is the riders from Ava...agh!_ ”

“ _Get away from my daughter, you scum!_ ”

“ ** _DAAAAAAAD!!_ ** ”

A shadow revealed itself above them from a small cliff.

“There you are.”

The outlaws had no chance against the surprise attacker when he jumped down. Not only had he better protection in leather armour compared to the rags they wore, he also had much better swords and battle skills. In the heat of the short battle, Narvi spotted something on the newcomer's head among all the black that flew around him as he moved: a pointed ear.

“ **An elf!** ”

But the leader of the band of outlaws refused to be defeated so easy. Without warning, he kicked Narvi in the ribs and she fell over the edge into the roaming waterfall.

“Miss Narvi!”

In sudden worry that the Dwarrowdam would drown because of him, Celebrimbor quickly struck down the leader with his sword before he jumped into the waterfall himself.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Thankfully, Celebrimbor was a good swimmer. It was difficult to breathe because of the strong currents created from the waterfall, but he felt something soft close at his left hand that was not his own hair. Grabbing hold around her waist, Celebrimbor started to swim towards the surface again. Once he had his head above the surface, he pulled up Narvi so she could breathe too. He was not too surprised to see that she must have fainted from the sudden lack of air when she was kicked into the waterfall, not to mention the strong force of being pushed down towards the bottom.

“Blasted outlaws...causing so much pain for innocent people…” Celebrimbor muttered for himself while he swam towards the river bank, carefully climbing up with the unconscious Narvi in his arms. Worrying that she seemed to not be breathing, Celebrimbor gently placed her on the ground and cut up the ropes which bound her hands behind the back, before he carefully started to give Narvi the mouth-to-mouth method in order to make her start breathing again. He was rewarded with a faint cough, which quickly changed into a painful groan. Not wanting the half-unconscious Dwarrowdam to mistake him for someone who might try and force himself on her with him bent over her like that, Celebrimbor instead picked her up in his arms and started to carry her along the river bank to come back to the others.

“Ah…”

Narvi was almost fully awake now, but she was startled when her sight stopped being so blurry and the face of the black-haired Elf from earlier revealed itself.

“ ** _LET GO OF ME!!_ ** ”

Celebrimbor didn't blame her in the slightest for panicing at seeing that her rescuer was an Elf, but he did not expect her to slap him in the face in a attempt to get free from him. The sudden slap caused him to lose balance and he ended up falling backwards back into the river while still holding her.

_SPLASH!_

As Elrond had hurried along the river after seeing Celebrimbor jump after the captured Dwarrowdam into the waterfall, he arrived just to see his distant relative sitting up awkwardly in the shallow part of the river with with an equally wet Narvi in his lap.

“Last time I checked, you normally wash clothing and body separate from the other unless it is really necessary,” Elrond said in a attempt to lessen the tense feeling in the air. Narvi tried to move away from Celebrimbor, but hissed in pain when she felt an overwhelming pain from her broken ribs and sore back.

“Ha, ha, very funny, Elrond. Hand over that dry cloak of yours instead.”

To Narvi's surprise, Celebrimbor placed Elrond's cloak over her instead of using it on himself.

“The other girls and young women are all safe as well, not a single one of the outlaws remains alive. Beorn offered us to spend a few nights at Avalon before we return to Ost-in-Edhil.”

“Good, and if we do not find the rest of the travel company miss Narvi, her late father and their companions were travelling with, then the annual trade group from Khazad-dûm should arrive in two months' time if nothing delays them,” Celebrimbor answered while he carefully picked up Narvi in his arms again before she collapsed. Narvi was both physically and mentally exhausted from everything that happened within the past day: the attacked farm, the storm which had prevented them from see their danger until it was too late, and then the attack on the outlawed band's hideout. Yet, before she fell back into an exhausted sleep, she saw the faded star of Fëanor on Celebrimbor's tunic.

“ _The eight-rayed silver star...from my dreams..._ ”

If Celebrimbor found it strange that Narvi temporarily touched the Fëanorian star on his tunic before she went limp in sleep he did not show it. Right now Narvi and the freed daughters of Men needed to get away from this place of nightmares, the sooner the better.

 


	7. Mourning ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of her father Balder's death, Narvi begins a Dwarven mourning ritual as a sign of her grief over losing him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: For you readers who once read my first fanfic Daughter of Fëanor back when I posted it on Facebook, there will show up a character who you might recognize when you see the name.

When Narvi woke up next time, she was laying on a bedroll with a thick cloak as blanket over her to keep her warm. A fire to her left was being fed new firewood.

“Hopefully there will not be more members of that group of outlaws. I would perfer not to have to patch up one of you again for the third time in the same number of weeks!”

A hiss in pain from someone, before another person answered:

“Not everyone is so skilled at avoiding attacks like yourself and Celebrimbor, Elrond.”

“Try surviving being in the care of my paternal family and not pick that kind of skills when you have my late aunt as battle trainer. There is a reason why orcs tended to run away in fear when they saw her.”

Celebrimbor remembered many times when someone had tried to best Maedhros in a training battle and ending up defeated, laying flat on the ground with a sword tip against their neck as a result. If it was something that her horrors in Angband had brought out it was a darker side of herself that none had known about in the bliss of Valinor.  

“Good point. Now, I believe there there is someone else who needs my care.”

Narvi was not sure if she could trust the Elf, but what other choice did she have? At least, she was able to use a part of the blanket to hide her face below the eyes as she did not have a face veil near. To her surprise, the Elf did not show any surprise over that she hid her face like that. Was he perhaps one of the rare Elves who had managed to befriend the Northern Dwarf clans before the events in the Elvish kingdom of Doriath had happened?

“Mistress Dwarf? Are you awake?”

It was true that Narvi was still learning Westron, but now she knew enough much to know what was spoken to her.

“Yes.”

The Elf raised a eyebrow at seeing that she hid her face in that way, but perhaps he simply thought that she was shy because it was so rare for a Dwarrowdam to see Elves so close. In any way, he did not do anything that could have counted as improper by Dwarven standards, merely asking her where she was sore after the fall into the waterfall and if she allowed him to use his healing powers to lessen it. Nodding without saying a word, Narvi rolled over to her other side so he could check on her sore back. A gentle warmth revealed itself where he had his hands on her back.   

“Thank you, master Elf.”

“It is the duty of a healer to heal the injured.”

That Narvi could agree on, she had heard Dwarven healers say the same thing nearly every time she had visited the healing halls for some reason.

“Here, drink this. It will help you have a easier sleep and heal faster.”

It was some sort of herbal tea, most likely made of herbs that was local to the North. Yet right now, it was soothing to have a simple act of kindness like this, even if it was made by somone who was not a fellow Dwarf.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next following days, Narvi was rather quiet and did not speak much. Part of it was because of the shock of losing her father Balder in a such manner, but she still tried show some gratitude for having been saved from a fate worse than death for a Dwarrowdam.

“So we will first stay at their home, Khelebrimbor?” she asked, her voice slightly muffered by the the long scarf she used to hide her face with since she had lost her face veil in the attack.

“Yes, miss Narvi. Most of the other girls lost their families when the outlaws attacked the farms where they were born and since we can not just leave them to care for themselves, Beorn has suggested that they will be servants on the stud farm that his family owns,” explained Celebrimbor as the group of riders crossed a small river. Narvi nodded in understanding, seeing the logic in taking in the orphaned girls and young women. He did not mention it, but for some odd reason Celebrimbor liked the way she spoke his name with “Kh” instead of the C at the beginning. Perhaps it was because of her unusual dialect that was so rare in the entire north-western region of Middle-earth.

“Celebrimbor, move your stallion before you ends up leading him straight into that tree.”

Elrond looked over his shoulder more than once just to check how things were, because from his view on things, Celebrimbor was acting weirder than normally. Of course, most people knew how fascinated he was by the Dwarves and given how rare it actually was to meet a Dwarrowdam, he should have known that Celebrimbor would take a chance like this. Granted, that Narvi came from the far East made her even more exotic than just being a very rare Dwarrowdam that almost never was seen outside their race, but Elrond was not blind to just how _easy_ they already seemed to be able to talk to each other despite the small problem of Narvi's Eastern dialect and speaking Westron in a very unsual way.

“I am pretty sure that ada Maglor and aunt Maedhros would only be happy over that their nephew seems to continue the family tradition of befriending Dwarves…” Elrond thought for himself at remembering Maedhros' tales of her friendship with the Dwarf Lord Azaghâl in the First Age before the disastrous Nirnaeth Arnoediad against the forces of Morgoth.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

It was a huge gate of wood, complete with a large name sign with the words **_AVALON STUD FARM_ ** above the closed gates, that first greeted them.

“Home sweet home,” Beorn smiled while his daughter Sally almost seemed ready to dismount from her place in front of her father's saddle and rush into the large courtyard. Suddenly there was a female voice screaming:

“ ** _OOOOOOUT WITH YOU, ALL OF YOU MEN!! You cause a racket worse than the henhouse today! Out, out with you!! The maids and girls cannot get any work done in here with you men around!_ ** ”

The female voice was coming from the main house, and in the next moment, several of the stable workers had been chased out from the house by a black-haired woman, dressed in green clothing, holding a broom in her hands. But the most surprising about her was the sight of that she was very heavily pregnant, looking like she was close to her due date any day now.    ****  

“Oh, looks like Qwen likely will give birth soon in the next few days. She only have that kind of mood swings during the pregnancy when it is getting closer,” commented Beorn without much surprise at seeing his wife acting like this.

“Moooooom!”

As Sally called to her mother while running past the gates, Qwen turned around to see which one of her children who called.  

“Sally!”

Dropping the broom, she hurried over to her oldest child as quickly as she could do in her current condition.

“My girl! My sweet little girl…!”

“Dad found me, they did not manage to do anything to me or the other girls they had captured...”

Mother and daughter hugged each other tightly, joined up by several younger children. Celebrimbor, who had met this married couple before, whispered carefully:

“How many children will the two of you have now, counting in the current pregnancy?”

“Eight, we are currently on three sons and three daughters. She is pregnant with our second set of twins. Well, we have been married for 14 years already since she was nineteen and I was twenty, so it should be no wonder. In fact, we was seen as being wed at a rather late age, as most people around us would marry about four-five years earlier,” Beorn answered calmly as he led in some of the horses into a pasture.  

“ _Eight!?_ ” muttered Elrond in disbelief at hearing the exact number, then looked extra carefully on Qwen with the eyes of a healer to see if there was any sign of that it could be some trouble for her after birthing so many children earlier. By now, Qwen had spotted her husband, their men and a notable set of unexpected quests.

“I take it that we need to clean out the extra rooms again, huh?” groaned Qwen after mentally counting how many guests it was.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Thankfully, the maids had just started to make dinner, so they just needed to add some extra in order to make enough for everyone. Hearing why they had brought the rest of the freed girls and young women with them, Qwen said:

“Well, somehow it happens to be a good timing to bring the lasses here, for I will give birth any day now and all of our three current maids will be wed to some young lads from the village nearby this autumn, so we really need more help here in the household. While Sally and her two sisters can do some work, there is some stuff that they still cannot do because of their age and the house is too big for them to deal with alone while I recover from the birth...Leofwine, get down from there.”

She gently pushed down her two-year-old son from the table and sat him down on the long bench so he did not cause any trouble.

“Lady Qwen? Do you have a scissor for cutting hair and a small mirror somewhere in the house? Narvi needs them for the start of a Dwarven mourning ritual,” Celebrimbor asked as he looked out from a spare room where Narvi had dressed into a plain greyish wool dress she had been given to borrow during the visit on the stud farm.

“Yes, in that wooden box over the fireplace.”

Celebrimbor found two scissors that Narvi should be able to use without too much worry about her large hands, and a small hand mirror from Qwen's private belongings.

“Thank you,” Narvi said in her best Westron and gave a light bow on her head as she accepted the needed items. Requesting Celebrimbor to hold up the mirror in her eye level, Narvi freed her hair from the mid-thigh long braid she had it into before she picked up one of the scissors. She gathered up the white-blonde hair in a hand, and drew a deep breath before she used the scissors to cut the hair to armpit level. The cut-off part of her hair fell down to the floor. Then, she used the other scissor to cut her shoulder-long beard into just a full beard, the longer parts of her beard joining the other hair on the floor. Somehow, the effect made her look notably different from before. Narvi was still beautiful, but in a different style from earlier.   

“A Dwarven custom for mourning when it is close relatives like parents or siblings. I will have to wear this style for the next six months, and this tradition also says that a mourning Dwarrowdam can not accept marriage offers during those six months…”

Her chance of possibly becoming Queen consort of Durin's folk was over before she even had gotten a chance to meet the future Durin II in Khazad-dûm. And Narvi knew that her whole family back in the Orocarni would be devastated at the news that her father was dead. It was true that Odin was old enough to be seen as a legal family head ever since coming of age thirty-five years earlier, but no one had expected Balder to pass away at the age of one hundred and ninety-five years. And there was no way she could travel back to the Orocarni alone, it was too dangerous. Her only chance to start a new life, one where her father no longer was present and the grief over him would not haunt her home as it would have done in her birth town, would be in Khazad-dûm.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I imagine that it would be a fitting mourning ritual among the Dwarves to cut their beard during the following six months as a sign of their grief over a lost family member, and that Dwarrowdams also cut their hair when they are in mourning period. As for you readers who recognized Qwen from Daughter of Fëanor, I hope that you enjoyed her comeo alongside her family.


	8. Future generations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope for the future can be shown in different forms

When you are in a different culture than your own, culture clashes are to be expected. For Narvi, one such thing was to see that none of the daughters of Men seemed to be carrying veils to hide their faces here in the North. A veil to hide their hair if they were married, yes, or to keep the hair from getting dirty. Otherwise their faces was never hidden from the eyes of men.           

“So women have face veils in the east to hide their faces from men that is not of their birth father, brothers or husband?”

Currently Narvi was helping Qwen and some of the girls to plant vegetables that would be their food during the winter months. Although there was some understandable misunderstandings because of their different languages, handsigns and body language could get an otherwise difficult talk through when you did not know the right words.   

“Yes, it is to protect their modesty. I do not know where it came from. Maybe a very old custom that was spread to other people as time passed?” Narvi answered behind the scarf that she used to hide her face.

“Sounds likely.”

Qwen proved that she was used to do more than one task, keeping an eye on her youngest children and still be able to work at the same time.

“Lady Narvi! Can you tell us more about how it is to live in the East?” asked Hildegard, one of Qwen’s seven-year-old twin daughters eagerly while her twin sister Godiva tried to help their heavily pregnant mother as much as she could do at her age.

“I am afraid that I do not know enough words in Westron for that yet…” Narvi answered honestly while Sally gently scolded her six year younger sisters for bohering one of their unusual guests. Being the oldest at 13 years, Sally knew social tact better than the younger siblings.

“Girls, take it easy...oh, great!”

Suddenly Qwen shifted in her movement since she just had raised to her feet again with some help.

“My water just broke, looks like the newest family members will be here before the day is ended,” Qwen spoke in a matter of fact, having felt early doing the pregnancy that she was carrying twins and since it was her sixth pregnancy, she knew the signs along with that for every pregnancy, the birth would be quicker than when she had given birth to Sally 13 years earlier.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As the stud farm's own smith had injured his hand in a small accident during work, Celebrimbor was helping out with making horse shoes and other things needed for the many horses.

“You are already thinking of seeking a betrothal for Sally? Are not 13 years a little too young for that?” he wondered as he shaped a new horse shoe for the yearling that was to have new shoes.

“There is noble-born children who get betrothed while they still lie in the cradle, and a more formal betrothal on about three years after are not that long. Qwen and I was betrothed for two years before we married. According to her late father, it took a while before the wedding as she was a bit late in becoming a woman if you compare with other girls of the same age.”  

One did not have to be a genius to understand that Beorn meant that Qwen had entered puberty rather late and thus had been unable to marry earlier than what they had done.

“I see…”

“What about you, Celebrimbor? Any lady you would like to marry?”

The Elven smith signed deeply at the question.

“Nah, I am rather unlikely to ever get married because of some very serious things that my paternal family messed up royally with in the past…”

“Dad! Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad!!”

Suddenly the two-year-old Leofwine showed up in the door, forcing Beorn to quickly pick up his youngest son before he hurt himself somehow. The flaxen-haired toddler protested in anger, waving around with a yarn ball he used as a toy in one tiny little fist.

“Terrible Twos, he had his second birthday two months ago. But his temper tantrums are not that horrible as his older twin sisters was in the same age, he is just a bit jealous about the lack of attention from the family because of all the fuss about the twins who will be born soon.”

“Dad! Mom says that the twins will come in the afternoon or evening!” Leofwine almost shouted in a attempt to get back down on the ground. Because of how much his youngest son struggled to get free, Beorn set him free outside the forge.

“Well, then I know that it is better to leave the women-folk alone for the rest of the day. Qwen can be pretty violent during birth because of the pain despite that she has done this five times before,” said Beorn in way that failed to really hide that he was slightly worried that something might happen to Qwen or the unborn twins during the birth. Once again, Celebrimbor felt a small wave of jealousy over seeing such care for a spouse and mentally cursed the moment his family had sworn that Oath of his grandfather's. While he managed to live alone and had some few loyal servants in his household in Ost-in-Edhil, he still hated how the Oath somehow managed to ruin his life even now just because it was his family, his father with his uncles and grandfather, who had sworn that Oath.

“ _Thanks once again for indirectly destroying any possible chance I have of marriage, grandfather!_ ” Celebrimbor thought bitterly for himself when he remembered that very moment the Oath had been sworn. It was rare for him to feel jealous over something because he normally did not feel like he deserved such a thing, but he did have his moments.

“Dad, mom says that they will need our largest cauldron filled with boiling water inside the house and everyone else out of the house unless they call for you,” Godiva said as she also showed up at the forge.  

“Of course childbirth is the sacred battlefield for women where men rarely is allowed to be...I will get the requests fixed, my girl.”  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Even if births among Dwarrowdams was a bit rare because of that Dwarrowdams was only one third of their people, Narvi had been present at a couple of births before, especially when Ala had given birth to Loki thirty years earlier. After all, even if she might never become a mother herself, it could be useful to know what was happening during a childbirth.

“Need anything else?”

In the bed, Qwen groaned and cursed:

“Outside the fact that I gladly would give birth more often than every second year if it just was free from this blasted good-for-nothing pain? No.”

No one of the present women was surprised by her words, after all it was a well-known fact that of all the unpleasant things in childbirth it was the labour-pains most hated by the mothers-to-be.

“Ok, more herbal painkillers or she will just end up cursing the ears off us before the birth is over.”  

Narvi hid a small smile, as Qwen was far from how loud and cursing a Dwarrowdam could be in childbirth. But she did not doubt the amount of pain Qwen had to be in right now. Why was such pain the price to be paid of a woman for having a child? That was a question that women had asked ever since the creation of the race of Men.

“I only hope that it was not something that the Green Lady overlooked…”

The Green Lady was another one of Yavanna's many names among the mortal races of Middle-earth, as a sign of respect over her nature-related powers. It was not unheard of that the Valar had many other titles in case someone did not know their real names.

“Who knows? As the Children, how can we possibly understand the depths of the Valar when we can only speak to them thought our prayers and then meet the Judge after death?”

“I do not think the Judge is scary. If he is the one to take care of us after passing away, then surely he can not be that scary?” wondered Hildegard as she pattered her mother on the hand to show some support for her pain. Ah, the innocent logic of children. Well, sometimes it never hurt to listen on what they had to say.

“Good point, my girl…ow....”

Qwen groaned in pain. Mentally the soon-to-be mother of eight hoped that this would her last pregnancy, for even if she enjoyed being pregnant so did she have her limits to how many times she could stand being with child and give birth about every second year.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Two healthy little twin girls was born late in the afternoon without too much trouble for either themselves or their mother.

“This makes it five daughters and three sons in our family,” Qwen laughed in an exhausted voice, yet with a tender smile on her newest children. The midwives had just cleaned off her and the babies so the proud father could come in.

“Dad, dad! You can come inside now.”

“We have gotten new sisters!”

The older set of twins had a lot of energy and was eager to show the new family members to their father.

“Easy now, girls, they will not vanish from the arms of your mother just because I am not as fast as you two,” Beorn laughed as his twin middle daughters led him into the birthing room by dragging his hands.

“My, what a beautiful pair of little ladies you have added to our family, beloved Qwen. I hope that the birth was not too difficult for you?”

She smiled a tired smile in answer. Having found a quiet corner along with a good piece of wood and one of her daggers, Narvi kept herself busy in creating a Dwarven amulet for good luck that would be given to the two little newborn so they were granted a long and healthy life. She was not sure how common it was with such amulets among the race of Men here in the North, but surely the happy parents would not mind a small for their newest daughters.

“What will you call them?”

“We chose early the names of Ingeborg and Matilda. After two well-known sisters and midwives in the local village who passed away by high age last summer.”

Everyone present agreed on that it was two good names for the little girls.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next five days passed quickly. Both Qwen and the newborn twins were without any signs of possible danger that could surface after the birth, for Qwen had always been a very healthy woman despite that she now had gotten eight children from six pregnancies. That good health had been inherited in high degree by her children, which was confirmed when Elrond offered to do a simpe health-check on them.

“If that good health remains in your future grandchildren and their own offspring, then I can honestly say that your family will remain here for several generations.”

Laughter from some of the men who was working here, knowing too well about their work-givers' health. After all, it was fairy hard to miss what was going on in their bed as Qwen had a habit of giving birth about every second year.

“No doubt about that, sir Elrond.”

The Elves  and Narvi was getting ready to return to Ost-in-Edhil, they was needed back home in the city and if they wanted Narvi to be there when the Dwarven merchants from Khazad-dûm arrived to the Elven city for some trade, they had to leave now. After all, there was a serious risk for misunderstanding if they tried to arrive at Khazad-dûm with her themselves.

“Thank you for letting us rest up here at the stud farm, and we all hope that you will be able to give the orphaned girls and young women a new home as maids here and possible husbands as well once they have recovered from their grief over their killed families and lost homes,” said Elrond while Celebrimbor checked on the pony Narvi had been given so she would not need to ride with one of the Elves on their bigger horses as it was rather uncomfortable for a Dwarf because of the height difference.

“And we want to thank you for the help as well. If you had not been there, Sally and the others would have been suffering thought one of the most horrible fates a woman can suffer from,” responded Beorn, where he and Qwen held a baby each in their arms.

“Good luck with all the children now, along with not getting any new horse thieves around here anymore for a long time. May the Valar bless you and all the lives around this area.”

“May the Powers of the World keep evil away from this world.”

It was a traditional saying when you did not know when you would meet with someone the next time. Taking the lead, Elrond and Celebrimbor rode in the lead, four of the other Elves rode in a small circle around Narvi with her. Even if there was no great trust between Dwarves and Elves because of the events in the First Age, it did not mean that they would refuse to help protecting Narvi until she was back among her own kin. After all, a lone Dwarrowdam would be unprotected against all the possible dangers that could happen to her if she tried to travel alone to Khazad-dûm. It was not worth the guilt and knowing that they could have done different when they had the chance, so it was better this way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: The story might go slowly because they still have not became friends and just has passed thought their awkward first meeting, but you readers are much welcome to share your own suggestions and ideas about the plot, along with Celebrimbor and Narvi, if you wish too!


	9. In Ost-in-Edhil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi arrives to the Elven city, and natually Celebrimbor's unusual guest can not remain hidden for too long

The ride back to Ost-in-Edhil took about two weeks. Narvi had been a bit worried about some understandable trouble with her Ruby Days that could come up when you were the only female in a group and you were not sure if you had enough rags to prevent the resulting blood from soiling the undergarments, but lucky Elrond had quickly spotted the problem and given her some herbs that would postpone her menstrual cycle until they had arrived to the elven city. As a healer, part of his training had been to spot such signs in ladies and quietly fix some herbal medicine for them if it was needed. 

“Look, we are almost there now, miss Narvi. Ost-in-Edhil, the capital of Eregion, ruled by my distant relatives Galadriel and Celeborn. Well, lady Galadriel is actually a cousin of my late father, but they were never close when he was alive thanks to several reasons,” explained Celebrimbor to Narvi as they rode closer to the city walls. Narvi nodded as she listened on him. It could happen that relatives could fall out because of something serious. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As Celebrimbor had offered Narvi to be a guest in his home, they rode there first. 

“Lord Celebrimbor is back!”

“Welcome back my lord…oh, you bring a guest home?”

Helping Narvi to dismount from her pony, Celebrimbor answered: 

“Lady Narvi from the House of Balder will be a guest here until the Dwarven merchants from Khazad-dûm arrive here for business. She is the only survivor from a small group of Dwarves who came away from their larger company on the way to Khazad-dûm and were attacked by Mannish out-laws.”

As her host, Celebrimbor was the one to lead Narvi inside. His house was large enough to have some guest rooms, and it would not take too much work to fix some of the furniture to make it easier for her. 

“I hope that it is all right for you to use this guest room. If something feels wrong, do not fear to ask and tell anyone what feels uncomfortable.”

It was a big, airy chamber on the first floor, partly built so it would always remain somehow in shadow so to escape the worst heat of the summer while the sun light and fresh air came from the large window. The walls had been painted in white and soft blue to calm the mind, with some painted pattern of trees as well to give a faint felling of being in a forest. 

“It looks wonderful with a very nice taste in choosing the colors, thank you for letting me stay here, my lord,” Narvi said and bowed for him as a sign of respect. Celebrimbor bowed on his head before he left her alone. Placing her simple travel bag at the end of the bed and taking off the long scarf from her face, Narvi felt just how tired she was. The past month had been so filled with events that she had not gotten a chance to truly rest her mind. Removing the shoes, she placed herself on the bed. It was so unbelieveable soft after all those months on the road that Narvi fell asleep without meaning to do so.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Meanwhile, Celebrimbor had hurried over to the house where Celeborn and Galadriel was living. Better to tell them right away that he would have Narvi as a guest for a while before any misunderstanding risked to happen if they saw her without any warning. 

“Pardon me, lady Celebrian, but are your parents here somewhere?” he asked her, to which she told him that they could be found in Celeborn's study. And yes, it was no one else there right now as Celebrian herself had just left there. 

“Welcome back, Celebrimbor, was it a pleasant orc hunt for you and the others?” wondered Galadriel from her place at the window with a smile as he entered the study, Celeborn looking up from a letter he was currently writing to Gil-galad. Giving them a light bow in greeting, Celebrimbor then told them about what had happened with the murdered Dwarves and why Narvi had came with them to Ost-in-Edhil. 

“I see…” 

Celeborn frowned a bit at hearing those news, seeing that he remembered too well how king Thingol of Doriath had been slain by Dwarves in the First Age over a disagreement about the payment on placing the Silmaril in the famous necklace Nauglamír. On the other hand, seeing that Narvi came from the far East, there was a high possibility that she might not even know what once had happened with her fellow Dwarves in Doriath. 

“All right, but you will be responsible for her, Celebrimbor. Ensure that she do not leave your house without a guard for her own safety, some people here are very likely to not view her kindly for being a Dwarf. 

“I will, that was my meaning the whole time. I merely wished for you both to know that I will be having a unusual guest for a while in my house.” 

Bowing, Celebrimbor then turned around to leave the office. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The rest had done Narvi well, she was less tired and could now focus on packing up her few belongings. Much to her great sorrow, the emerald bridal jewelry from her grandmother Frigga had been broken in several pieces in the attack by the out-laws, who had not been too gentle with the packing. And the green dress meant for her to bear at being presented as a possible royal bride was also having several tears in the skirt. 

“I really was not meant to become a royal bride for the Line of Durin, huh, Dwarven-Father?” Narvi wondered for herself, using one of Aulë's other titles among the Dwarves as a sign of respect for him. Thankfully, her small sewing kit had not been harmed in some way and Narvi had learnt enough from her mother Ala, who was a seamstress, to be able to see that the tears would be trickly to fix with just needle and thread. If she got her hands on a light blue fabric, it could give some more colour on the skirt. She had also heard that the current fashion in Khazad-dûm  for Dwarrowdams was a triangular shape on their dresses, so she might need to change the shape on the skirt as well. 

“Hmm...maybe like this? Or something in this style? No, Amad said that this kind of pattern fitted my colours more…” 

Having found a quill, a bottle of ink and some parchment in a box inside one of the cabinets, Narvi made some images of her ideas for the skirt before she drew a circle around the chosen model. Maybe should ask for some fabric  

“Lady Narvi? Can I enter?”

“Yes, please.” 

It was one of the female servants in the household, who entered the chamber with a food tray. Since the mourning tradition said that Narvi would have somewhat limited contact with others as a mark of grief over her father during the first two months after his death, Celebrimbor had tried to find a way to respect that and still not isolate her because she was a Dwarf.

“Pardon the fact it is mosty vegetables, we are not really sure what kind of food you are used to eat in the East.” 

Narvi waved with a hand as she spoke: 

“Thank you. And please do not worry too much about that. Meat is actually rare in the East because it is very expensive, the land is often dry and big animals that eat a lot are not wise to keep there because it is rather difficult to find enough food for them.“

She knew that her Westron still was far from good, but at least she did not risk to cause too much misunderstandings by saying too many wrong words. And being around the Elves would help her get it even better.

“Yes, my lady.” 

The female servant bowed, glad to hear that Narvi would not request too much meat in her food. While meat could sometimes be served here after a good hunt made by the local hunters, having a Dwarf as guest for a longer time could be a bit difficult. As the She-elf turned around to leave, she saw the small drawings Narvi had done aling the sewing kit opened on the bed and could easily guess what she might need. After all, it was the duty of a mother to at least give a daughter beginner lessons in sewing and embroidery to prepare her for life as a married woman. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

During the first days as a guest of Celebrimbor, Narvi focused on following the mourning tradition and trying to fix her skirt again. After all, several tears in a long skirt take time to hide, even with hiding the tears by adding a new fabric to make it wider. As Elrond had promised, the herbs had made her Ruby Days arrive a bit later than normal but she still took care to write it up in that special female journal every Dwarrowdam was given to write up things she might notice about her Ruby Days and a healer could get a better understanding if something was wrong. While it was not unheard that a very young Dwarrowdam could have irregular Ruby Days when starting to bleed, sometimes it still could remain for a longer time without the cause being a pregnancy. 

 

“Your family came from the Blessed Realm?!” she asked in surprise one morning, when Celebrimbor had invited her to share some breakfast with him on the balcony because it was a such fine summer morning. They had just finished eating and were just enjoying the last of the nice tea, Celebrimbor politely sitting slightly with his back towards her as a sign of respect of that a Dwarrowdam rarely would allow a non-related man to see her face unveiled.  

“We left Valinor for some...rather very personal reasons, partly because the Dark Lord had stolen my grandfather's Simarils and murdered my paternal great-grandfather Finwë after destroying the Two Trees of Valinor…”

Narvi swallowed nervously. She remembered the old stories coming from the North, tales about a great war between the Elves and Morgoth, how some mysterious gemstones had been involved. 

“Unpleasant indeed, I can not even imagine how shocking it must have been to suddenly lose the light from the two Trees created by the Green Lady and the Lady of Mourning…” Narvi said with a faint shudder in horror, using some of the titles Yavanna and Nienna had among the Dwarves. 

“Not one of my most pleasant memories, yes.” 

A couple of moments in silcence, where both tried to focus on their tea a bit. Then, Narvi said: 

“Khelebrimbor...do you happen to know a jewelry-smith around here? A jewel-gift from my grandmother was broken in the attack and I do not have the skills to fix it…” 

“I have learned how to create jewelry even if I am mostly a blacksmith, so please let me see if I can fix it.”

She was a bit hesitant in showing him the box with the emerald jewelry, given that it was something that once had belonged to Frigga. Carefully opening the lid, Celebrimbor could see the damage done to the jewelry; the necklace was broken in three pieces, one of earrings had broken in a careless throwing of the box to the ground, and the head-piece had been snapped into two. Thankfully, Narvi had managed to save nearly all the emeralds that had been broken loose so he would not have to replace too many of them. 

“If one was to look what the fact that it is broken, it is a very fine work of jewelry. Despite those horrible scars that covers her body, I am sure that aunt Maedhros would look lovely in this kind of…” 

Suddenly Celebrimbor remembered that Maedhros no longer was alive, and the manner of her death. The horrible truth about Rûsa, her son who had been taken from her right after birth in Angband and groomed into becoming the feared Warg Rider. How she had tried to protect him, and both of them dying. 

“Your aunt is no longer among the living, right? That way you suddenly stopped to talk about her, is a sign of that…” Narvi asked carefully, to which he could only nod in answer.  

“She...passed away in the War of Wrath, at the end of it. It was a...a accident no one expected to happen, especially as she were worn out from a harsh life as a warror and already ill from a previous injury…” 

Saying that she had been killed by vengeful Elves from Doriath while trying to defend her only, thought-to-be-dead son from the same fate despite that he had been used by the Enemy, would be a bit too personal to reveal. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

In the morning of the tenth day as Celebrimbor's guest, Narvi got the offer to follow with two female servants to the local bathhouse used only by women, something she gladly accepted. 

“Wow, even without clothing so many of you Elves look like masterworks of stone art made by the Maker for his Green Lady!” Narvi said in surprise, using her sense of creating to not be too shocked over that by Dwarven beauty standards, the She-elves were far too tall, slender and somewhat lacking in female curves along with missing a beard. While she did stick out a bit because of her dark skin colour and for being a Dwarrowdam, there were some human ladies there as well, most likely the wives and daughters of local human families living around Ost-in-Edhil. 

“My, thank you, lady Narvi. Come, let’s get you started up with the bath.” 

Seeing that her presence had not gone unnoticed, Narvi was not too surprised over the curious looks that was sent towards her. Oh well, seeing how rare Dwarrowdams was with being only one-third of the Dwarven race, it was no wonder that they had never seen a female Dwarf before. Lucky, a few brave young Elf maidens soon found enough courage to come over to her and start a conversation.  

“Being a guest of Lord Celebrimbor must be nice, he is kind of lonely at times despite his kind personality,” one of them said while getting some cold drinks to keep themselves cool in the stream bath. 

“Yes, very unlike how his father Curufin and uncle Celegorm was said to have been. Well-known trouble makers their whole lives in one way or another, that Fëanorian duo! Not even the other five Fëanorians was said to cause that kind of problems for their family…” 

“Indeed, not even that easiy-angered Caranthir is said to make that kind of mess despite that he was well-known for being the harshest and the quickest to anger of the siblings.”

Narvi raised a eyebrow at the words, but did not ask anything since she did not want to be caught in any old rumours about his family.

“Lord Celebrimbor is a kind host and there is no trouble with the servants either, so there is no need to worry about something for me as his guest.”

After all, it was not proper behaviour to repay your host by being rude or do anything behind his back. As Narvi finished washing her hair and started on the beard, she got a new question:

“Is it custom for female Dwarves to have their hair short like this?”

“No, it is a sign of mourning among us when we cut our hair and beard in this style.”

She gave them a warning look for giving her more questions, just in time for a new She-elf to enter the room. 

“Could some of you please go to the other rooms? The princess is coming.” 

Right away, several of the present She-elves obeyed the request and made more room by changing to the other rooms.

“The princess?” 

“Princess Celebrian, the only daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. She is the Princess of this kingdom, the second-highest ranked lady here.” 

At the same time, Celebrian entered the stream bath chamber with some of her court ladies behind her. Among the Dwarves, her natural silver-coloured hair would have drawn great attention as it was a very rare hair colour in young Dwarves and a lot of possible suitors for her hand. 

“She is very pretty indeed,” Narvi thought for herself as she packed her bathing items together and bowed lightly for Celebrian as a sign of respect for the Elven princess before leaving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notice: I imagine that some of the northern Dwarven fashion during the Second Age might be a little like Tudor fashion, giving the Dwarrowdams a triangular shape on their dresses. The bridal jewelry Narvi got from Frigga is meant to look like Indian bride jewelry, as it seemed to fit into Dwarven fashion.


	10. The head statue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi makes a gift for Celebrimbor, but did she choose the right model?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: those who have read my stories Sins of the Past and Tears of Blood will likely notice the irony of something Narvi and Celebrimbor will mention at the end of this chapter

When two weeks had passed, Narvi felt that it was time for following a minor Dwarven custom that she could do during the mourning. Being a guest of Celebrimbor, she was entitlted to make a gift for him as a sign of her gratitude for having been allowed and honored to be his guest.                                   

“But what could fit a Elven Lord in terms of a gift made from a Dwarf? I know from an early age that the two races have very different tastes, and I doubt that it might even fit into the rest of the house…” Narvi thought as she took a small walk inside the house. Looking around, she saw that it was the smaller hall leading to the two chambers where he had his family altar and another store room which currently was empty at the moment. 

“Hmm...yes, maybe a head bust might fit in here...just need to find something as a motive…”

With a plan forming in her mind, Narvi went to the family altar to see if she could find a good image of his family to use as a idea for the motive. 

“Good thing that he has a small footstool here...I may be tall for a Dwarf, but I am still smaller in height than those over-grown Elves! Why they could not be given a more reasonable height is beyond me...” 

The altar was reasonable simple, made of marble and rather small to be easy to move around if needed. A couple of candles, made from bee wax, was at the front and she carefully moved them aside. Just as she remembered from the house tour, the few family images that had survived the passage of time was there. Perhaps one of them could be a good base for the head statue. It was fairly easily to see who his father and grandfather was, Celebrimbor had perhaps taken after his mother Astarë a bit more in the shape of his face and nose along with her more greyish-blue eyes, but the similarity between the three was there. A drawing of two red-haired Elves, twins from how similar they looked, smiling sadly. A silver-blond male Elf, having a sort of proud look on him as he drew back a arrow to shoot. Another dark-haired Elf sitting at a desk and looking annoyed as if he just had been interrupted in counting the money in front of him.

“Oh? This must be his aunt Maedhros that he mentioned four days ago...good Maker, what happened to cause those horribe scars on that poor Elven Dam?! Surely not all of them are the result of battles…?” Narvi gasped in shock and faint horror when she saw the drawing of Maedhros. Sure, some of her former beauty could still be seen, but the way the scars marred her face was a clear hint to how the rest of her body must have looked under her clothing. 

“No, no...I can not use her as model for the head statue, it might bring up bad memories for him...hm?” 

One portrait drawing was set much much further back than the others. Narvi had to reach over the small table to get hold of it. Similar to the drawing of Maedhros, the male Elf was deeply scarred and had darker red hair in a unkempt mass, but there was something different about him: being drawn in profile side-view, only the left side of his face were shown, making the V-shaped scar from the ear and alongside his jaw on his face clearly visible, yet there also was a cold and merciless gaze in the black eyes. In fact, despite that it was only a portrait, his back eyes was so bewitching that a person could not look away. For a short, single moment the male elf caught in the portrait almost seemed to come alive and about to turn his whole face towards Narvi.    

“Scary...but who is he? He looks a wee bit like lady Maedhros...her son? But why would both mother and son be that scarred?” 

Narvi remembered the old stories about the War of Wrath, how the fury of both sides in the War had wreaked havoc on much of the land, the northern areas torn asunder, rivers formed or destroyed, mountains and hills changed. How most of the land west of the Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains, as well as a large part of the central part of the mountains, was laid waste and soon after sank beneath the waves. The two great Dwarf cities of Nogrod and Belegost had also been ruined, forcing their populaces to flee. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

A few hours later, it was time for dinner. During her stay so far, Narvi had offered suggestions to the cook on how to use rare spices from the East. Like today, it was chicken with a curry sauce and spring vegetables. 

“A custom of gifting the host something?”

“Yes, if the guests have no money or something else worthy as payment, we are to craft somethong for the host instead,” Narvi explained after drying off her mouth and fastened the face veil back so she could look at him without feeling that that she was breaking a rule. After all, given the manner their first meeting had happened, him seeing her face would be excused as a legal mistake because of the circumstances by Dwarven standards, since it hiding your face with a veil was the last thing you would think of when you had been kidnapped by slave traders. 

“Khelebrimbor, remain still for a moment, please.”

“Huh?” Celebrimbor wondered in surprise over her words.  Then, seeing her pick up a divider caliper from a pocket in her dress, he remained still as requested, letting her take measurements on his head from different angles. He guessed that her gift was going to be something made from her work as a stonecutter, if she needed to do this to get the right measurements. 

“Shall I tell one of the stone masters what kind of stone you might need?” 

“A smaller block of marble would be preferable, I saw a fitting one in a corner of the stone on the left side of the market.”

Celebrimbor knew which shop she meant; some parts of his own house had actually came from that shop owner and since that Elf owned him a small favour, perhaps that marble block would be perfect for that task. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next following weeks, Narvi kept herself busy with working. She might only be five years after coming-of-age for the Dwarves, but there was no doubt about her skills. There had been a true Grand Stonecutter Master sleeping in her from the start at birth and now it was fully awakened. The Dwarves were not named the Children of Stone for nothing, which Narvi now proved. Once she knew the idea of a how a finished work might look, she refused to stop working until that  it was close to the vision she had. 

“She truly is skilled…” whispered one of the female servants as they peeked inside the room by the door, trying to catch a small look of what Narvi was creating.

“Did she not say something that she is just fifty years old…?”

“What?! That young and already this skilled?” whispered another in shock. It was true that Narví still was fairly young by both Elven and Dwarven standards, but the natural talent in her made up for her youth. Because Narvi was standing with her back towards the door, it was hard to see what she was creating. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

About two days before the Dwarven merchants from Khazad-dûm would arrive to Ost-in-Edhil, Narvi was finally finished.

“Narvi, it is time for dinner soon. Do you think you can take a small break to eat a little?” Celebeimbor asked after knocking on the door. He heard the sound of her moving around. 

“You can actually enter, Khelebrimbor. The statue is finished.” 

Placing his hand on the door handle, he slowly opened the door to take a look on what Narvi had created for him. Although her face was hidden behind the smaller shawl she had used during work to not breathe in stone dust and to hide her face from the eyes of men, he could tell from her green eyes that she was smiling in understandable pride over finishing her gift. 

“The house servants here have been having a lot of fun the last weeks in guessing what you have been mak…” 

Suddenly stopping walking, Celebrimbor stopped talking in shock at seeing what the head statue actually looked like:

The deeply scarred and from life-long starvation hollow-cheeked face in a such manner that it was nearly impossible to see that it was slightly heart-shaped, the mass of tangled and unkempt hair, the cold glace in the eyes...

Despite it being white marble, the resemblance to his dead cousin Rûsa was as well made as if Narvi had seen him in real life. In fact, the marble eyes seemed so real that for a moment, Celebrimbor believed that Rûsa actually had returned to life. 

“What is wrong? Did I choose a wrong model…?”

It alarmed Narvi to see how pale Celebrimbor suddenly had became at the sight of the head statue. Mentally praying to Aulë for help, she hoped that she had not done a serious mistake in choosing which one of his dead family members as model, but the black eyes of that heavy scarred, male Elf in the drawing portrait had not given her any rest, not with the way his eyes seemed to haunt people even from a simple drawing. 

“No, no...there is nothing wrong with the model...I just...was not prepared on how similar you have managed to make it look like my dead cousin who died in the War of Wrath alongside his mother, my aunt…” 

Celebrimbor took a deep breath to calm himself down, pushing down the horrible memory of seeing Maedhros embrace Rûsa in death, as if she wished to protect her long-lost son against possible enemies in their dying moments. She had mentioned very little about what she had gone thought in Angband, but she had indirectly revealed the truth about her son by that she had been pleading and begging in her sleep when she had nightmares about the newborn Rûsa being taken away from her. 

“You can...place it at the family altar if you do not want to shock the servants with it…” Narvi offered while Celebrimbor carefully took a better look at the head statue. 

“Do not feel ashamed over the model you chose, lady Narvi, in fact I am actually happy over that you did choose Rûsa because this statue and that drawing are the only portraits done of him…” 

Narvi raised an eyebrow in confusion over the strange name for an Elf and Celebrimbor was quick to explain that it was a dialectical pronunciation of the Quenya word Russa, which meant Red-haired, as he could not exactly explain why his cousin was named such. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

_ He could tell from his uncle's pale face as they rode that it was not good at all. Everyone had believed Rûsa to be far too weak to try and escape, and yet he had managed it. First by tricking the guards outside his tent, then by taking Eärendil and his twin sons hostage. But why he had chosen Maedhros as a new hostage, no one could really guess.  _

_ “Of all the people to take as hostage....my poor sister, who already is ill in so many ways…!” Maglor said aloud in fear. He had told Celebrimbor that Maedhros most likely was secretly dying, her body giving up after all those years of fighting as a warrior and the Oath drawing on her spiritual strength as well.  _

_ “Do you think the shocking reveal of my cousin actually having been alive all those years, as a servant of the Dark Lord, might even be the cause of her failing health lately, uncle? I mean, looking back at all those battles where the Warg Rider was present, Aunt Maedhros was said to look strangely drained for some reason…”  _

_ Maglor looked at his nephew for a moment.  _

_ “You mean that the Dark Lord and Sauron might have used some sort of dark magic on her while she was forced to carry Rûsa? Yes! I have been thinking such thoughts, especially after seeing how she have looked the past two days after that Rûsa was captured! A dark magic which steals her own life and keeps her son alive in exchange!”  _

_ There was tears in Maglor's grey eyes, and as he spoke, Celebrimbor could hear that his uncle was worried for both Maedhros and Rûsa. Even if they had not known about his survival for very long, the family instinct told them both that Rûsa needed to be protected. Being the Warg Rider, either voluntarily or by force, made him the target of a far bigger danger than he might even know about.     _

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Dinner was a somewhat quiet affair, mostly because of the simple reason that Narvi was very tired after working on the marble head statue every day in several weeks and hardly had energy for little more than smalltalk while they ate the baked potatoes and belonging sallad of fresh vegeables. Still, Celebrimbor praised her skills and told her about his paternal grandmother Nerdanel back in Valinor and how she was a famous sculptor, said to have such skills to make statues so lifelike that people thought they were real at first, and if they did not know her art, tried to speak to them. 

“Sounds like we could have been sharing work experience if it had been possible,” Narvi smiled behind her veil, to which Celebrimbor agreed. He had been only a few years away from his coming-of-age ceremony when the Darkening of Valinor happened, and it had been a very quiet family event because Maedhros had been captured only a few days before.  

“Yes, I am sure that she would have liked to meet you, lady Narvi.”

Once dinner was finished, they bid each others good night and left for their chambers. Since the Dwarven merchants from Khazad-dûm were to show up in Ost-in-Edhil in two days, it was for the best that she was well-rested and ready to meet them. 


	11. Her kin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dwarves arrive to Ost-in-Edhil

Two days later, around the middle of the day when sun stood as highest, the Dwarven merchants from Khazad-dûm arrived to Ost-in-Edhil. They were forty in number, all used to the dangers that might show up between their home and the Elven city. 

“Lord Frerin, what a surprise to see you among those of your merchant kin,” greeted Celeborn in honest surprise at seeing the Dwarven prince. Frerin, who was the younger brother to King Vern I of Khazad-dûm, bowed deeply in response.  

“When one gets a message that there was an attack on our kin by outlawed slave traders, and a group from the East comfirmed that some in their group had gone missing around the same time, of course it would fall to the Royal Family to check this out since it was for the sake of finding my nephew a bride and any lost Dwarrowdam is a lost daughter to our race.” 

“Then I am sure that it will gladden your hearts to hear that while my poor Adad Balder of the Asar family and his friends were not granted a chance to survive, Lord Celebrimbor managed to save me before any dishonor could fallen upon me,” Narvi said in a greeting voice as she revealed herself from behind a stone pillar, dressed in a dark grey two piece-dress kaftan and a small silver belt which fit the grey face veil she was wearing, a sign of her being in mourning. She had also braided her hair in many small braids as best as she could do with her hair being cut to shoulder-length. She did a curtsy while Celebrimbor presented her:

“Lady Narvi, daughter of Balder and Ata, of the Asar family.” 

“My Lord.” 

Frerin bowed in greeting to her, his black hair braids falling slightly around his face by the movement. 

“Frerin, prince of Khazad-dûm, to your service, my Dam. I am sorry to hear about your loss of your father.”

Narvi blushed behind the veil as her hand was kissed by the Dwarven prince, she knew that customs was slightly different here in the North but had not expected to be treated like a high-born lady already. 

“My clan is blessed with my older brother Odin as the first-born by 30 years before me, so there is no worry for me and my younger brother-sister Loki not having a close-related protector and head of the family.”

Frerin, who had lived for 170 years already, understood the way Narvi implied about her family with a such term. After all, his own life-partner Tora was a such Dwarf as well. 

“May the Maker bless your clan and comfort them in the news about the passing of your father.” 

“Does you wish to rest, and talk business later at dinner?” Galadriel offered with a gentle smile, sparing Celeborn some small work. 

“That would be much welcomed after this long journey, my Lady.” 

Bowing, Narvi made a point of carefully moving back into the shadows of the house. Unspoken Dwarven rules requested the Dwarrowdams to generally not allow themselves to be seen anyhow by non-Dwarves, especially by male ones, and while her kidnappning situation would be a seen as a very legal excuse to that Celebrimbor had seen her unveiled face, Narvi wanted to stick to those unspoken rules to keep herself calm despite the inner joy of finally seeing fellow Dwarves again even if they were ones she had never met before. Celebrimbor and his servants were kind, yes, but she had deeply missed the company of her own race since it was rather uncomfortable to be the only Dwarrowdam in a city of Elves. Her still reasonable young age of fifty years also played a part of those feelings. 

X~X~X~X~X~X

To be honest, and much to his own private confusion, Celebrimbor was not too pleased over knowing that Narvi would soon leave Ost-in-Edhil to be with her own kin again. 

“Perhaps it might be because she is one of the few persons who have not seemed to care for the past sins of my family…”

Or perhaps it was so simple as that Narvi did not know of what really had happened in the First Age, and he had not exactly revealed a lot of the events outside how it had affected his own family members.

“Focus on what they are talking about, silly!” warned Celebrian to his right and gave him a a light kick on the shin under the table to make Celebrimbor stop thinking.

“Sorry…” Celebrimbor whispered back. Celebrian had a good point, as a blacksmith himself Celebrimbor had a interest for the skills that the Dwarves had as metalworkers, smiths and stoneworkers. At the left side of the table, Narvi was sitting with Frerin. Now beside each others, her Eastern dialect was heard more clearly as they talked, that there was a different way she spoke in. After they all had finishing the dessert, Frerin asked: 

“Three weeks of business, then we will return to Khazad-dûm, is that a good time for you, my Lord and Lady?”  

The co-rules of Eregion nodded in agreement. 

X~X~X~X~X~X

Since it still was some hours before it was time to sleep, Narvi and Celebrian used a chance to look over the city. In the warm twilight, it seemed like a rain of soft gold and red had fallen over the marble and stone houses, the gardens and trees adding a gentle green to all the colours. 

“It is always beautiful to watch the sunset from here, no matter how many times I have seen it in my life,” Celebrian spoke gently as she stood in her full height. She was shorter than her mother's 193 cm in height, but where Galadriel was sharp, her silver-haired daughter was more softer in personality. Granted, Celebrian was only about five-hundred years old, but she was not exactly an shelted and naive young She-elf. A wee bit spoiled perhaps, but that could be blamed on her social rank as the second highest-ranking lady in Eregion. 

“Indeed it is beautiful, if one were to ignore that your parents' house is a bit too tall if you ask me,” Narvi joked with a sly smile behind the veil, making Celebrian laugh a little bit. It had not taken long for them to become friends the day before when Celebrimbor had brought her to meet Celeborn and Galadriel for a quick meeting. Celebrian was a warm-hearted and kind lady.

“I guess that is true for people that is of different heights. Of course, it is a such long time since I was so little that I had to be carried by my parents to see this kind of view.”

Narvi could tell that the Elven princess did not mean to offend her, and simply smiled at her. Then she saw Elrond standing behind one of the inner pillars, a faint blush on his cheeks as he glaced towards the back of Celebrian. The Dwarrowdam might still be young in years, but she could guess why he was blushing like that. Oh well, it was not hard to see why people would fall in love with Celebrian. Not just her beauty, but her warm heart as well. 

“Elrond?” 

It was Celebrimbor. He had whispered quietly, knowing that it likely would be a while before Elrond could come to Ost-in-Edhil again to see Celebrian. And poor Elrond was far from the only Elf who held feelings for her. 

“I know that I have a very little chance of winning her heart or even catching her eye despite that I have been chosen as a herald to Gil-galad...despite that my birthfather is Eärendil and my mother is Elwing of Doriath, I know that many people does not truly trust me, even after all those years, because of that Elros and I were raised by your paternal uncle and aunt.” 

Celebrimbor gave Elrond a warning glare, he knew that Maglor and Maedhros would be aghast if they had heard Elrond doubt himself in that manner. Instead he simply gave the young Peredhel a light smack in the back of the head, in a manner that greatly reminded Elrond about how Maedhros would show her displeasure over something he and Elros had done, while saying:

“Don't be silly, cousin. Do not let the past still haunt you like that. Now go and give Celebrian that rose-scented cream for her hands that I saw you doing earlier today. Off with you now!”

A gentle push in the back, and poor Elrond nearly fell forwards before he found his balance again.   

“What...no, wait!” protested Elrond to a smirking Celebrimbor as he found himself nearly face-to-face with Celebrian, blushing so hard that no one would have blamed him for fainting if he had done so. And yet, Elrond managed to offer her the small box which contained the rose-scented hand cream without a sound before he hurried away. 

“He is awfully shy, that one, huh?” Narvi commented as Celebrian, in her gentle ways, tried to follow after Elrond to thank him properly for the gift as she had guessed why he might not have trusted himself to speak without making a fool out of himself.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Before she followed Celebrimbor back to his house, Narvi took time to tell Frerin of what had happened after that the outlaws had attacked. 

“It pleases me much to hear that it will be seen as a honest mistake, for I feared that my kind host would be seen as having dishonored me by saving me,” Narvi spoke in clear relief.

“Nay, my Dam, no one would think that it was done in ill deed. When it is to save a life, proper behaviour is the least thing people would think of. Or far more lives would be lost to the world.” 

Frerin could understand why Narvi had been worried. Dwarrowdams did have very strong rights in Dwarven society because of how rare they were, and being dishonored was a strong matter for them. With not every Dwarrowdam choosing to marry, those who did so was seen as extra blessed even if they had the great misfortune of never carrying a child into the world. Blessed with children or not, a happy marriage was still a important way of reminding fellow Dwarves that things was well between a young couple. 

“So...it is true that because I am in mourning, there is absolutely no chance of me coming a royal bride?”

Narvi felt that she needed to be really sure on that, so she had asked Frerin in a such honest way that he could tell that she was not out for becoming a future queen, simply wanting information about what she possiby would expect. 

“Aye, neither a future queen or even a royal concubine, as your mourning period will be over when it is past Durin's Day and both of those special ladies for my nephew have to be chosen before that day. But even so, you will most likely be granted royal protection as a official thank you for coming to Khazad-dûm despite what happened on the way there.”

Giving her a respectful bow, Frerin then returned to the guest chamber he had been given. Narvi, in turn, made a eastern Dwarven hand sign that was meant to protect the much older Dwarven prince against any dangers of the night. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next three following weeks passed quickly. Business was done well on the markey place, especially as the Elves of Ost-in-Edhil knew better than remind the Dwarves about what had happened between their races in the First Age or they would lose a valuable trading partner.

“Lady Narvi, I hope that you have been pleased with your stay here in my home.” 

It was the day of depart, and Narvi had just finished packing her few belongings in her travel bag. With some unexpected help from Celebrian and her ladies-in-waiting, Narvi had sewn a extra travel outfit that could be useful. 

“I am more than well pleased for being allowed to stay here in your house and household, lord Khelebrimbor. By the standards of the Eastern Dwarf Clans, I now have a life-debt to you which can only be repaid by me saving your life in turn one day in the future. If not me, then perhaps a possible descendant of mine in the future. This small silver hammer is a sign of that life-debt.”

She handed him a small earring formed as a hammer, which Celebrimbor accepted with a understanding nod before fasting the small hammer in his right ear. He had already holes in his ears since a couple of hundred years back, and it was easy to simply change his normal stud silver earring with the silver hammer, which was shaped like a drop earring. Checking so the silk scarf did cover her lower face properly, Narvi then bowed in farewell to Celebrimbor before taking her travel bag on her back and entering though the front door to her kin that awaited outside. 

“Farewell…” Celebrimbor mumbled for himself, voice spoken so softly that it could have been a mere whisper. If Frerin found it strange in that sorrowful way the Elf-Lord looked at Narvi, he said not say anything. Dwarrowdams were so rarely seen by outsiders that he found nothing to complain about, Celebrimbor had gotten an extremely rare chance to befriend a Dwarrowdam despite how things first had started that meeting and by the look on his face, had greatly enjoyed that chance.

“My nephew will have his bride chosen at the end of autumn if you wishes to send a wedding gift to the happy couple for the wedding later in winter!” Frerin called over his shoulder to the co-rules of Eregion, as he took the lead on his own pony. Checking so Narvi was sitting comfortable in the carriage she ad been placed in, the Dwarves left Ost-in-Edhil for the road leading to Khazad-dûm, their home in the Misty Mountains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Vern is a male name meaning “Of the alder tree” in Old Norse and seemed to fit for a Dwarven King. A kaftan or caftan is a variant of the robe or tunic, versions of which have been worn by several cultures around the world for thousands of years. The kaftan is often worn as a coat or overdress, usually reaching to the ankles, with long sleeves. Dam is the Swedish word for Lady, and seeing that female Dwarves are called Dwarrowdams, I think it could be their way of saying “my Lady.” Tora is a old Norse name, a female version of Thor. I imagine that Frerin might be a traditional Durin family name given to the second-born royal son once every few generations. Those who know about Norse mythology, probably will recognize the earring as a Mjölnir pendent, and seeing that the Dwarves are famous for their war-hammers, it seemed to fit.


	12. Reminders of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narvi arrives to her new home, but a remaining shadow from the past of her family might risk to ruin some of her plans for the future....

Khazad-dûm, the greatest of all the mansions of the Dwarves, founded by Durin the Deathless way back in the First Age, laying in the central part of the Misty Mountains. 

“Their royal highnesses, Queen Dowager Freja, Queen consort Skadi and princess consort Tora!” announced a herald out loud, making many of the court Dwarves hurry aside to give room. Three Dwarrowdams of different ages walked though the court, towards a long hall towards a huge chamber where they were to meet up with the many candidates to become the newest Dwarrowdam married into the Line of Durin. All of them wore the finest clothing that could be brought to be made into clothes in this Dwarven kingdom, but they had different colours to indirectly mark their different status in the royal family. 

“Frerin have sent a letter which arrived this morning just before breakfast, telling the fate of the Dwarves from the Blacklocks that went missing in the storm about three months ago. Only the missing possible bride, Narvi of the Asar family, managed to survive from a attack caused by Mannish outlaws,” Tora said from her place behind the two elder and higher-ranked Dwarrowdams. The oldest of them signed deeply. 

“Then we cannot have her as a royal bride or concubine to Durin. Being a Dwarrowdam in mourning forbids anyone to give her marriage offer or any other sort of offer that can change her social status,” Freja spoke with a wisdom granted over a long life. With an age of 240 years, she knew a lot about Dwarven society of Khazad-dûm and being a member of the royal family, also the customs there.

“Well, that means one less Dwarrowdam for my son to choose his bride from before the chosen day; he mentioned a slight worry in that they might have come here in vain if he did not know how important it is for him to marry and have his own heirs for the future of the Line of Durin,” said Skadi with a fond smile as she remembered how things had been when she married Vern. Going by the look Freja had on her face, she remembered that day as well.

“That wedding was one of my first clear memories from childhood…”

Being the youngest of the three royal ladies, it was only natural that Tora sometimes remembered important events in a diferent way than her mother-in-law and sister-in-law.  

“Now, now, my dear daughters by marriage, we have some young Dwarrowdams to meet.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The meeting chamber was a big and airy one, painted in many colours to give it a welcoming feeling when you entered it. As the three royal Dwarrowdams entered, several much younger Dwarrowdams were quick to stop in what they were doing and curtsied as a greeting for them. Not all of the possible royal brides were present, as some of them were away at the tailors to get new desses sewn to wear at the royal wedding even if not they were chosen as the bride, and others were away to spend the day with distant relatives which lived here in Khazad-dûm or just enjoying the market day.   

“Good morning, young ladies. I hope that you had a good night sleeping, even if not so many of you managed to meet Durin yesterday. Today we bring both good and bad news about the missing bride candidate, Narvi of the Asar family.”

Two of the young Dwarrowdams looked up, it was Chipo and Hathai who came from the same hometown as Narvi. 

“Pardon if I speak out of line, my lady, but is Narvi alright? We have not stopped to worry about her and the others since they went missing that day when it suddenly became a storm in the evening…” 

Freja took a deep breath:

“The good news are that miss Narvi is alive and as healthy as she can be. My younger son Frerin and the merchants are already bringing her here to Khazad-dûm as we speak in this moment.” 

Several joyful cheers were heard, not just from Chipo and Hathai. Even if not all the present Dwarrowdams were from the Blacklock Dwarven clan, some of them had been travelling with Narvi towards the north before she had gone missing. 

“The bad news is that she is the only survivor of a attack caused by Mannish outlaws, her sire Balder and six other Dwarves were sent to the Halls of our Forefathers in that event. Thankfully some Elven warriors were around and could quickly save her from any dishonor. Sadly this mourning period also means that she is unable to be chosen as a royal bride or concubine,” Freja then explained in a serious voice. The younger Dwarrowdams nodded in understanding. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

It took several more weeks before the Dwarven merchants finally arrived to the Great Gates of Khazad-dûm in Dimdrill Dale, a valley on the east side of the Misty Mountain.

“I swear by the Maker's hammer, that if not my older twin brother or my nephew one day is gonna order a Gate to Khazad-dûm to be built on the Western side of the Misty Mountains, I am gonna ask my lady mother for permission to give them a black eye each!” Frerin muttered for himself as he saw the gate leading into his home. Narvi, who sat in the carriage beside his pony, took notice of his words. As a stonecutter, that could mean a job for her if a such gate ever was built. It could even be her masterwork if she just played her cards right and waited for the right moment. Being only fifty years old at the moment could be a disadvantage if she was too hasty. Better to wait and slowly build up her own reputation over the years.

“Sounds like a good request to make, my Lord.” 

Adjusting her face veil, Narvi made herself ready to enter Khazad-dûm. She did not know why, but she had a growing feeling that she might never return to her birthtown in the Orocarni. Perhaps the Maker meant for her to live her life here in Khazad-dûm, among Durin's folk because there was something she was meant for here, even if it was not as a future queen consort or a royal concubine for the line of Durin. 

“Lady Narvi, welcome to Khazad-dûm, the realm created by my ancestor Durin the Deathless.”

As they came closer to the Gate and she was helped to climb out of the carriage, Narvi saw that the entrance was inscribed with spells of prohibition and exclusion in Khuzdul, warning foes for the wrath of the Maker and his Stone Children that was to strike down on them if they dared to enter.

“If you allow, lady Narvi.” 

Taking his offered hand, Narvi was led inside by Frerin. After passing the First Hall and coming down from a flight of stairs, she got her first surprise at seeing a narrow stone bridge crossing a chasm, about fifty feet long. The depth of the chasm was incredible and the ceiling was high, giving a even greater feeling of it. 

“A-are you sure to cross it?” she asked nervously at seeing that it were no depth in sight.

“Aye, you will be used to it soon after living for a while here.” 

Taking a deep breath to keep herself under control, especially since the kidnappning event with the waterfall had given her a mild case of acrophobia, Narvi tried to not look down as they walked across the bridge. Once they were on the other side, she allowed herself to relax a bit. 

“Well, welcome to your new home, my lady.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Narvi could not really describe the feeling of seeing all the new surroundings which from now on would likely be her home for the rest of her life. First now did she understand how small her hometown actually had been by Dwarven standards; while three-hundred Dwarves was still a reasonable big number for a smaller town, to see all the Dwarves here revealed for Narvi just how small that town had been. 

“It is...so many people here…” 

“Yes, it is. Many newcomers say the same thing when they first arrive here. Come, you need to become registered as a new civilian in Khazad-dûm, it is useful in keeping check on the different families here and to prevent too closely-related people from marrying each other,” said Frerin as he led her towards a office for registeration. On the way, he greeted and quickly spoke to several Dwarves that greeted him. 

“Good midday, prince Frerin. Is this the young lass you spoke off in the letter you sent?” asked the scribe who sat at the desk when they entered.

“Aye, miss Narvi from the Orocarni. Narvi, you said that you were a stonecutter, so you should write down your name in that guild book, along with the names of your family members in the family book.”

“All right.”

Narvi wrote down her name, her date of birth and the name of her stonecutter master in the guild book. However, when she wrote down the names of her parents and siblings along with the chosen family name, Frerin noticed one small thing:

_ Balder son of Frigga _

No name of her paternal grandfather. That could only mean two things; either that her paternal grandmother had become a widow not too long after the wedding and her only son was the result of the wedding night, or that she had left her husband for personal reasons. While abusive relationships were very rare among the Dwarves, it still was not unheard off in some cases. Often it was never revealed in fear of the social dishonor the abusive spouse would be given, not to mention that abuse was seen as a legal reason for divorce. 

“Thank you for registering yourself, my Dam. I hope that your family might move here as well.”

“It would be my pleasure as well, thank you.” 

As Frerin led her outside again, Narvi saw two familiar Dwarrowdams that she had not seen for a long while. 

“Narvi!” called Chipo in joy at seeing her while she and Hathai hurried over from the market food stand where they just had been checking out some newly baked meat pies for sale. Seeing that the three young Dwarrowdams clearly seemed to know each others from earlier, Frerin left them in order to find his brother Vern and tell him how thing had gone on the journey. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

“Mother, beloved Tora, I have returned,” said Frerin with a smile as he entered the training room where he knew that he would find his mother and his own consort. Freja had become Queen consort to Freyr I of Khazad-dûm in a time of heavy war against orcs as it had threatened the trade between the different Dwarven realms here in the northern part of Middle-earth, and she had been raised as a warrior if her birth-home had needed to be defended when the army was away in battle, so it was no wonder that she still tried to keep herself in shape even at her old age. 

“Frerin!” 

Tora almost jumped on her husband in happiness over that he finally was back home, giving him a lot of kisses in the face before he managed to get free for a couple of moments. 

“Toooooora, wait with the welcome-home kisses for while until we are back in our bedchamber...please?” 

Freja only smiled, even tried to not laugh out loud, at the scene where her younger son tried to gently get his darker-skinned consort off him. The social and honest personality of Tora was a welcomed contrast to herself who was more of a stern leader and Skadi were more of a motherly personality. 

“How did it go, my dear boy? I guess that you already have told your older twin brother and nephew on the way here.”

Allowing Tora to hug him from behind, Frerin answered: 

“Good, everything was sold to a good price and I got miss Narvi with me from Ost-in-Edhil as well. Yes, that was exactly what I did since I knew that Vern would like to know, mother. And Durin needs to know as much as he can before it is time for him to take the crown after his father.”

While Vern and Frerin was just in their 170th year of life and would enter their 171th the coming spring, there was no guarantee that both of them would live to the grand age of 250 years, anything could suddenly end their lives earlier without any warning.   

“By the way, Frerin...lord Mimir have once again suggested a marriage between his granddaughter Runa and either Durin or yourself.” 

Frerin heard a low hiss in anger from Tora at those words from Freja. 

“What?  _ Again? _ Honestly, just because Tora happens to be born as the soul of a Dwarrowdam in the body of a Dwarf does not mean that she is not acceptable as a royal consort! And miss Runa is only forty years old, she is not of age yet for another five years! Marriage where one partner is underage is not authorized by law, not even for royalty! Betrothal, perhaps, but clearly not marriage!”

Lord Mimir from the House of Frost was one really old Dwarf Lord, about ten years older than Freja, infamous for his unpleasant and ruthless personality. A widower with one son named Calder, their only legal direct heir was a still underage Dwarrowdam, a single daughter and granddaughter born as a last, desperate attempt to get the family line to continue to future generations. 

“Exactly. I told him the very same thing this morning after breakfast,” Freja commented in a displeased voice before adding under her breath, “and gave him a bump from my wooden spoon to show my point.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As Narvi was showed around by her two friends on the market, she happened to go straight into someone else by mistake. 

“Good Maker, my deepest apologies! I did not mean to do that!” Narvi said in honest regret and offered her hand to help the other Dwarf back up on the feet. From the clothes on the other Dwarf, it was a Dwarrowdam slightly younger than herself.

“Mint bride…” 

A faint whisper, as she was helped up. In the movement, her face veil did slide slightly off and revealed a very pale face along with very light blue eyes. An albino. 

“You are...the mint-dressed bride…” 

“Miss Runa! Miss Runa, where are you?! Your lord father and grandfather are looking for you! They will be so horribly displeased if they find that you have sneaked out without permission again!”

Becoming even more paler than what she already was, the albino Dwarrowdam hurried to try and cover her face again with the deep red silk veil while turning around to run back to where she had come from earlier. The movement caused a old burnmark around her right eye to be revealed; her veil was especially designed to hide the burnmark.  

“Who...was that?” wondered Narvi in shock, to which Hathai answered: 

“That was Runa from the House of Frost, a rather old noble house from the days of the First Age that currently is lead by lord Mimir and his son Calder. You would not be the first one to be shocked at first by seeing how she looks like...Narvi?” 

Narvi's green eyes had turned hard and cold, a look neither one of them had ever seen on her before. There was a unforgivable fury in her voice as she hissed lowly in a dangerous voice: 

“ **_Mimir of the House of Frost…!_ ** ”

She could not believe it! That immoral bastard had actually managed to father a legal heir with a bride chosen by his parents, while her poor grandmother Frigga had been dishonored by him just a mere month before that wedding and afterwards quickly been thrown out of the household, falsely accused of theft by Mimir, so that she would not be able to reveal what had happened between the underaged Frigga and the ten year older Mimir?! 

“Narvi?” 

Narvi forced herself to calm down, it would not do well to reveal what once had happened in the past. Not only would it betray the trust between herself and her grandmother about the family secret, but it would cause harm to her own life as well if it came out. Illegitimate children and their own offspring were not seen in a good way by most Dwarves, often seen as a sign of actions Mahal would never allow between non-royal Dwarves and a danger to the parents' children born in a legal marriage.

“I am sorry, I just remembered something about the House of Frost that is not too pleasant for my own family...something about a dishonor made in the dark…”

Dishonor in the dark could mean a lot of things, and was in general used as a saying when someone did not want to tell the exact details of what had happend at the event in question. Often it was no worse than a serious insult in front of several other Dwarves, but other times it could be something much, much worse that simply could not be spoken off.

“L...let's go and see if we can fix somewhere for you to have as your own home here in Khazad-dûm! I know there is some such homes meant for us possible future royal Dwarrowdams not far from here,” suggested Chipo carefully, making Hathai nod in agreement as Narvi was gently dragged along by them both towards the place where they could take a look on something that could be fitting for both Narvi and her family if they were to move to Khazad-dûm in a few years since a such move to a whole new home needed careful checking and control, not to mention that it would cost some money to make a such move. Not only would their mourning period over Balder first have to pass, they would also need to sell their house and everything of the heavy furniture which they would not be able to bring along. 

“Say...since you have been here longer than me and thus have seen a bit more, are there any sign of who the future Queen consort will be?”

Not everyone of the suggested bride candidates had felt matched in personality or chemistry with prince Durin, but at least they had gently been offered to at least stay over winter so they could be honored guests at his wedding to the chosen bride. 

“Well...there is a couple of Dwarrowdams that he is often seen with, but he have requested that their names are not to be revealed yet in fear of causing jealousy and possibly even cause disagreements in court about who that will become the future queen after Queen consort Skadi.” 

Narvi nodded in understanding; there was a reason to why the name of a future princess consort was to be kept hidden until Durin's Day when she was to be presented to everyone at court as their future queen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Acrophobia is fear of heights, and I think being pushed out from a waterfall and nearly drowning would cause a such fear for Narvi. Freja is a Old Norse Goddness whose name means “the Lady.”. The etymology of the name Skadi, who is a goddess of bowhunting, skiing, winter, and mountains, is uncertain, but may be connected with the original form of Scandinavia. Freyr means “Lord” in Old Norse, which seems fitting for an Dwarven King. Mimir is the name of a wisdom deity in Norse myths. Calder is a Old Norse name meaning Harsh and cold waters. Mahal means maker in Khuzdul and is the name Aulë is called by the Dwarves.


	13. A royal wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A royal wedding is happening in the Line of Durin

Winter had now came to the Misty Mountains. Currently inside Khazad-dûm, the Dwarves were getting ready for a big event: the wedding of Durin and his chosen bride Ragnhild, a lovely redhaired Dwarrowdam from the Firebeard Dwarven Clan. 

“I still can not believe that I was chosen…” 

No one could blame Ragnhild for still not really believing that she was about to marry into the very Line of Durin. Well, the wedding day was only in a few days so it was no wonder if it still felt like a dream she soon would wake up from. It was not that Ragnhild was naive, just a Dwarrowdam born from a rather simple working family and therefore could have some understandable worry that she would not be a good consort to a royal husband.  

“Well, you will not be dreaming on the wedding day and saying the vows to Durin,” smiled Narvi from her place in the dress chamber as she checked on her own dress she would wear at the royal wedding. Even if the finest tailors in  Khazad-dûm had helped most of the invited Dwarrodams with their dresses, Narvi had chosen to make her dress herself since having a seamstress as mother, like Ata was, had given her free lessons in how to sew. Since her mourning period had ended a few weeks back, Narvi had started to let her hair and beard grow longer. 

“Your dress for the wedding fest looks wonderful, Narvi.”

“Thank you, it is for the small dance story about one of my foremothers that I mentioned,” Narvi smiled as she did her best to sew a nice pattern of light blue tread on the sand-coloured fabrice. She, Chipo and Hathai had a plan to perform a small story through dancing, a story about one of her maternal ancestors. It was a well-known tale in their common hometown, which showed just how determined a Dwarrowdam bride-to-be could become in getting her missing fiancé back in time for the wedding. Narvi was much proud of being that Dwarrowdam's direct descendant by a female line, unbroken from mother to daughter for five generations with her as the fifth generation. 

“It will be fun to see that dancing storytelling, it sounds so different from a normal way of telling stories.”

Grinning, Narvi finished the pattern and started on a second one in a different colour. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Since her mourning period had ended a few weeks earlier, Narvi had refused to let down her guard for several reasons unless she was around people that she trusted. According to rumours, Mimir and Calder tried to find a new wife for Calder ever since his first wife had died about twenty years earlier in a winter illness she had caught because she had been suffering from a bad health caused by a long misfortune in the shape of several miscarriages and stillbirths before finally giving birth to her only child Runa who, according to the more nasty and unkind rumours, had been born as an albino as an unspoken punishment from the Maker for an old sin Mimir must have done in his youth, because Calder was born here in Khazad-dûm 150 years ago. 

“I have a feeling that I know exactly what kind of sin they are hinting at without even knowing about it…” 

Knowing exactly how Mimir indirectly had ruined all of Frigga's chances of a good life in the way he had destroyed her innocence in more ways than one, Narvi could hardly blame the Maker for punishing him in a fitting way. Most Dwarves would not mind if their only child were a daughter and rather be filled with pride over having fathered a rare Dwarrowdam, it was well-known that Mimir did not seem to have any pride at all over having a granddaughter. And from what she had seen so far, Calder was very alike his father in personality. 

“And he wonders why no one wants to offer him a new daughter-in-law, with the rumours that his past daugther-in-law was disrespected by both her own husband and father-in-law for all the miscarriages and for giving birth to a girl in her only successful pregnancy! No, I have to be careful since it is a very high possibility that Calder might try and give me a marriage offer since I am of age since five, almost six years ago!” Narvi thought for herself as she poured a large bowl-full of warm water over her to wet her hair so she could wash it easier. Tomorrow was the royal wedding and she wanted to look her very best without outshining the other Dwarrowdams. Well, her dress was rather simple in style but still colourful as per the habits of Dwarves from the Orocarni. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As guests of honor, Narvi and the carefully rejected former possible royal brides were sitting rather close to where the royal family was. Not only was it a sign of thanking them for coming all the way here, it was also a way of indirectly showing that they now were free to be given marriage offers by others. 

“Personally I think Ragnhild really was the best one matched to him in personality....”

“Yes, she is sweet, yet not allowing him to be the in control all the time.”

“A true queen-to-be, indeed.”

“I would love to be one of her court ladies later when she sets up her own part of the royal court!” 

Ragnhild was very popular among the younger Dwarrowdams for her honesty and kind personality, and it was hard to dislike her. As they talked, the last noble families arrived to their seats where they would watch the wedding. Among them, Narvi caught a quick look of a red face-veil and guessed that it must be Runa sitting with her family, as the noble families stayed with their closest family members. To her surprise, she also caught sight of some Elves from Eregion standing at the far back, but she guessed that they had been invited to witness the wedding on behalf of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, who likely could not really just leave their duties behind as they might wish. 

“Hush, they are coming now.” 

All three of the Dwarrowdams already married into the royal family wore different shades of blue and turquoise to match what Vern and Duin wore. Each royal lady wore some sort of jewelry, although Freja wore copper jewelry with black onyx gemstones to show that she was a royal widow, Skadi wore gold jewelry with sapphires as a sign of being the current Queen consort while Tora wore silver jewelry with amethyst gemstones. 

“Everyone, we of the Line of Durin wish to thank you all to become witness to this wedding. Every royal bride to the Seven Clans is special in their own way, yet everyone of them are welcomed no matter which family member they happens to marry. Today, a new royal bride will be joining the Line of Durin as the consort to my own son,” Vern spoke in a royal manner which still did not manage to really hide his joy over getting a daughter-in-law. At his side, Durin looked down at the stone floor for a moment to hide his modest blush and Frerin gave his nervous nephew a a soothing, discreet tap on the shoulder to show his support.

 

Then, the bride herself arrived with a hand laid on her father's arm. Ragnhild was dressed in a lovely sky blue wedding gown, high-necked and with long sleeves ending in a light purple. The dress had white small diamonds sewn on the fabric, creating a wonderful contrast to Ragnhild's natural copper-red hair which she had left free to fall along her back since a Dwarven bride could let her hair become free if she so wished. Seeing that it was not a custom of Dwarrowdams to wear make-up except for a tiny hint of a flattering eyeshadow to bring out their eye colours, in this case her blue eyes, they could all see her natural beauty. 

“She is so pretty in that dress....” 

No doubt that Ragnhild was a worthy match in love for Durin, given how he looked at her as she came over to him at the altar where a pair of stone statues of Aulë and Yavanna were standing together. As the wife of their Maker, Yavanna was worshipped as a mother godess by the Dwarves and the Vala Dwarrowdams sent special prayers to when they wished to become pregnant. Every child born was a treasure in its own, no matter what gender, since every birth was a new generation to keep the Dwarven race from dying out. 

“You better take good care of my little girl from now on or you will not be spared from a sparring match,” Ragnhild's father joked in good humour, making Durin and several other Dwarves to smile. 

“My sweet bride.”

Taking her hand to lead her towards the altar while the priests and priestesses started on a ancient wedding prayer which asked their Maker and his Green Lady to bless this marriage in both happiness and the fruit of healthy children, Durin gently helped Ragnhild to light an axe-shaped candle since it was a small symbol of that they were to start a new life together. That her hands shook a bit due to nervousness was only to be expected given what kind of event it was. Then, holding up a small golden forge hammer in both his hands towards Ragnhild, Durin spoke in a clear voice: 

“I, Durin II of Khazad-dûm and future King of Durin's folk, hereby sends my wish to the Maker and his Green Lady that I wish to take Ragnhild, a daughter of the Firebeard Clan, as my lawful wife and Queen consort.”

Taking the golden forge hammer from Durin so they held it together, Ragnhild spoke her part: 

“And I wish to tell the Maker and his Green Lady that I want to honor this wedding request made by Durin ll and become his legal wife and be Queen consort at his side when he becomes King.”

Handing over the golden hammer to one of the priests, they then exchanged a couple of silver rings on each other's little finger before braiding a special marriage braid in the hair for everyone to see. As a final sign of Ragnhild being his future Queen consort, Durin placed a small silver diadem with sapphires on her head.

“My lords and ladies, I present to you my consort Ragnhild of the Firebeard Clan.” 

As Ragnhild turned to face the crowd, everyone either bowed or made a curtsy in respect for the future Queen consort of Durin II of Khazad-dûm. The Line of Durin had gotten a new daughter by marriage, a new mother for the future royal generations to be born from. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The wedding feast afterwards was a pretty joyful one. At weddings, especially a royal one, it was requested to not drink too much and cause trouble because of drinking too much. The one single exception, however, was a drinking game that was down to three players, two taking part of the game while the third one kept count.  

“Just one pint of mead, please,” requested Celebrimbor as polite he could. He had no plans of getting drunk, not on a wedding like this. Smiling, he walked around to look. The tall Noldor Elf was not really hungry yet, but he still picked a reasonable meat bun to eat while he walked. Suddenly his attention was caught by a movement, a far more bright colour than what he had seen earlier.

“Hm?”

His curiosity caught, Celebrimbor walked over to where he could see the unusual colours. What he found, was enough to make him stop and blush very heavily: 

Narvi and two other Dwarrowdams were dancing, but it was not a normal dance or anything he had been before. They moved their hips in a way he never had seen before in his long life and made fluid movements in the dance which was so unlike anything else. Narvi herself was easy to spot, thanks to her white-blonde hair being a such contrast to her dark skin as it was left loose in the dance, and she was also wearing the brightest and most gemstone-decorated clothing in light green and ice-blue colours, a fitted top which left her arms bare and a long shirt, a pair of open sandals on her feet which was a good size for Dwarrow standards. The most dark-skinned Dwarrowdam, who also had her black hair loose, wore a simple set of red and dark blue, similar to what Narvi wore, with silver-coloured long pieces of fabric which she had tied around her wrists and ankles. The third and last Dwarrowdam was dressed in different purple clothes and a lot of gold jewelry, her black hair caught in a braid and tied with a white silk band. All three of them wore veils to hide their faces, yet it seemed to add more mystery to the dance. And he could not tear his eyes away from Narvi as she danced...

“Master Celebrimbor...oi, Celebrimbor!” 

A sudden jerk in his robe broke the trance Celebrimbor had been into, and he looked around in confusion. 

“Huh? What?” 

It was one of the Dwarven smiths he had talked to earlier, before the wedding ceremony. The Dwarf followed where his glace had been just a minute ago. 

“You should be grateful, it is very rare for Eastern Dwarves to be seen here, especially the Dwarrowdams. And three from the same Clan, too!” 

“They belongs to the same clan?” Celebrimbor asked in surprise, now taking a closer look as the three Dwarrowdams bowed for the watchers who had seen their performace. 

“Aye, all three come from the Blacklock clan, but born in different families there so they are not related to one another. I am not surprised that your eye was caught by miss Narvi, she is pretty eye-catching with her unusual colours indeed. Exotic-looking, even for someone from the East if you wonder, it is seen more clearly against miss Chipo and miss Hathai beside her over there. She have finished her mourning period after her father, yet she is stone-set in not getting a betrothal with someone before the rest of her family moves here from the Orocarni.”

That surprised Celebrimbor, as Narvi had mentioned very little of her family while she had been a guest of his in Ost-in-Edhil. Then again, such things were personal and not exactly something revealed to non-Dwarves. Besides, if she was only fifty years old and half-way though her first century in life, she was still rather young for a Dwarf and had her whole life ahead of her.

 

Narvi was not surprised that many Dwarves asked if the dance-tale was based on something which had happened in reality a long time ago, and so she proudly said with a honest smile behind the veil: 

“Yes, my own maternal great-great-grandmother Jarna and her eventual husband Negus. She was a famous warrior-Dam in her living days from a famous local warrior family in a fairly high social standing, while Negus came from a more simple working family and they were performers, and was already a fairly good ventriloquist from a young age. A few months before the wedding, Negus was suddenly kidnapped by slave traders after doing a performace in a human town to gain more money in order to help his family pay the last part of the bride price for Jarna which they had gathered over several years ever since they had entered a betrothal. At hearing that news and knowing just how much Negus meant for her, Jarna made up her mind to find him herself. It took time and many times she found herself a false trail, but soon enough she finally found a rumour that a human ruler further down in the south had brought a Dwarven slave and knew that it could only be her betrothed, She got her chance to save him when some madman turned the palace on fire in the middle of the night and the slaves had to hurry out in order to not get burned inside. After saving him and escaping in the chaos caused by the palace fire, they returned back home to the Orocarni and was wed a few months later just as planned. They ended up having no less than four sons and a daughter in their marriage.” 

Narvi was very proud of being a direct descendant of Safira, the only daughter of Jarna and Negus, in a female line from mother to daughter. Such a female line without being broken even once between the female generations was seen as being sign of something special happening to one of the generations eventually. Some of the old seers in her birthtown had spotted some unusual signs when they had tried to catch a look of her future, alttought they had not been abel to see anything very clear. Not that Narvi minded, she found life less predictable if she did not have to think of a particular event that would happen at a certain time in life.

“Miss Narvi, miss Chipo, miss Hathai! The other Dwarrowdams from the Orocarni are sending a message that they are planning to dance for the royal family and offers you three to be part of it!” called a young Dwarf who came running, trying to not trip over his fine robes. The three Dwarrowdams did not need to ask what kind of dance it would be; belly dance was part of the Dwarven culture in Orocarni and not knowing the basic steps were seen as a serious failure in their education. Especially given the tales of how many Dwarrowdams in the past had caught the eyes of their eventual husbands by just belly dancing. 

“Come on, let's hurry before they starts, then. Cannot be late in front of royalty,” commanded Narvi over her shoulder and started to walk while quickly adjusting her face veil so it would not slip off her face in the middle of dancing later. A such mistake was alright in a belly dance exercise or in front of her betrothed, but not before the royal family and all the noble families. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Much to his private shock and faint horror, Celebrimbor noticed that his body seemed to react on the belly dance Narvi and the other Eastern Dwarrowdams were doing in the large chamber in front of the royal family and the noble family. Thankfully, he wore a thick winter feast robe and a thin cloak which helped to hide his growing problem. 

“What on... _ why?! _ ” he thought for himself in embrassment as he adjusted himself to cover his lower body better. He rarely had reacted like this on She-elves before in his long life so far, not even getting a reaction from the fair Luthien the few times he had managed to see her in Nargothrond after that Curufin and Celegorm had bought her there, so why was he reacting like this way on Narvi, a **_Dwarrowdam_ ** of all people!? No one had ever heard about a romance relationship between Elf and a Dwarf, their races were too different to even find the other sexually attractive. Besides, Narvi was a Dwarrowdam, one of the only one-third Dwarven females born to their race, getting into a relationship with a such rare daugther of the Dwarven race was out of the question from the very start, even if he did find Narvi attractive in a strange way. The memory of her lips against his when he had done the mouth-to-mouth method in order to help her start breathing again after the water fall...

“It is already bad with people saying all those horrible things about my paternal family that have no ground in truth, but this….? No, they will claim that it yet another proof of that grandfather Fëanor was marred from his very begetting, tat he should never have been born in the first place…”

Celebrimbor had felt a strong emotional connection to Narvi already in Ost-in-Edhil when she had been his guest, but he had believed it to be because she had not seemed to care about his past or which family he had been born into. 

“An Elf falling in love with a Dwarf…? No, no, no, I am cursed, the thrice-damned Oath is haunting and mocking me once again...it must be so, there can not be any other way to explain this...but still! Agh, what am I thinking!?” Celebrimbor scolded himself, only for it to fail royally since Narvi in just that moment happened to show up at the front dancers and Celebrimbor forced himself to drink a huge tank of strong Dwarven beer to not focus on her as she danced. Finally the belly dance was finished and as discreet he could without awakening questions, Celebrimbor hurried towards his guest chamber where he and the other Elven guests were staying at. He really needed a bath, a long and very cold bath to get rid of this private problem and then stay away from any more of those dance shows the Eastern Dwarrowdams until that he and the others went back home to Ost-in-Edhil again.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Those who want to see where I got the inspiration for the wedding dress Ragnhid wore, go out on goggle and search “Sky blue wedding attire and hijab.” Just because it is a muslim wedding dress, doesn't mean that other cultures cannot be inspired by it! Narvi and her friends is meant to be wearing a bedlah, which is an Arabian costume normally worn by women. The word bedlah is Arabic for "suit". In the world of belly dance the term bedlah refers simply to the costume that a dancer wears. A ventriloquist is a person who can speak or utter sounds so that they seem to come from somewhere else, especially an entertainer who makes their voice appear to come from a dummy of a person or animal. I imagine Celebrimbor to be demisexual, a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone. It's more commonly seen in but by no means confined to romantic relationships.


	14. Start of trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tension is beginning between the Asar family and the House of Frost...

Year 805 of the Second Age, early summer in Khazad-dûm. It had now passed five years since that first meeting between Celebrimbor and Narvi.

“You want to exchange experience as a healer with the Dwarven healers?” Celebrimbor asked to Elrond as they left the bridge to Khazad-dûm behind them. They were among a group of Elves who had came to visit the Dwarven realm and also to check on the trade contacts between Eregion and Khazad-dûm.

“Yes, I thought that it may become useful someday in the future if I ever happens to get a Dwarf in my care someday.”

Well, that logic was rather hard to disagree with, espcially as Celebrimbor had a oddly strong feeling that Elrond would prove himself right in this sooner than what any of them expected.  

“Give room, please, gentlemen! An order from the bakery ahead!” someone suddenly called from behind and the two Elves hurried to step away from each other just in time to see a Dwarf dressed in dark green clothes pass by them with a large basket filled of freshly baked bread. Yet two small things stood out; the veil which covered the face and a white-blonde lock escaping from the otherwise neat hairstyle to the dark skin.

“Hurry up, Loki! The guard troops need their breakfast around this time,” said another Dwarf a few steps ahead with a similar basket in his arms. The veiled Dwarrowdam hurried after him without even the smallest sign of dropping the basket.

“She looked familiar somehow…”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, Narvi was in her work shop, glaring at a ruby necklace she had thrown to the floor in anger.

“I swear that if Calder from the House of Frost sends another courting gift to me, he is gonna end up with more than just a slap in the face the next time I see him!”

There were a lot of unspoken rules when it came to Dwarven betrothal, among them being a rule of that the Dwarrowdam had a right to actually slap a suitor in the face as an open sign of rejection for that suitor. And given the untold history between Mimir and her paternal grandmother Frigga, Narvi was more than just a little bit creeped out by the mere thought of being courted by Calder. In fact, it was a actual nightmare for her now since her family finally had moved to Khazad-dûm two summers ago.  

“As if I even want to marry! I am only five-and-fifty late-winters old, I may be old enough to marry since ten years back but I have not even entered my sixties! I do not want to stand as a bride before my one-hundred late-winter at least if I ever happens to find my One! If l do not have one, then…”

Taking a deep breath, Narvi tried to calm down. Having anger in her mind would only cause her to do mistakes in her work and by that, lose important time meant to be spent on working in her craft. She had to deliver this in two weeks and being late for a customer was not good if she wanted to be taken seriously and earn a good amount of money so her family could have food on the table. It was especially needed as Frigga, Ala, Odin and Loki had moved to Khazad-dûm just two years earlier because it had taken longer than expected to check out all of Balder's old contacts and all the other things which was left undone by his death. The mourning period was on six months, and then it had taken much time to sort things out before the move.

“Amad Ala is with the other dressmakers, grandmother Frigga said that she was going to the spa center to massage her limbs since she is getting more stiff in her old age, Odin and Loki are both at work…”

Just as Narvi was about to start working again, a nervous voice was heard from the door:

“E-excuse me?”

The newcomer revealed herself to be Runa, looking as jumpy and nervous as ever while she removed her veil to be heard better in talking. As such, Narvi also removed the cloth she had used to not breathe in stone dust during work.

“Is something wrong, Runa?”

She wasn't normally seen this part of the city because her father and grandfather had forbidden she go. The albino Dwarrowdam looked down on the floor, not meeting her eyes.

“I...came here after overhearing father mention something about giving you a courting gift...I was thinking that he would give your something that was too much for your taste…?!”

Suddenly she saw the ruby necklace Narvi had left on the floor, and became even more pale-faced, if that was possible. She actually looked like she was about to faint in shock.  

“H-he...father used... _my Amad's necklace?!_ The o-one she was given as a sign of their betrothal a year before the w-wedding? But...but...it is supposed to be mine, I was given it from her at her deathbed to w-wear at my own wedding!” Runa shuttered in shock and despair as she realized what her father must have done and fell down on her knees to pick up the ruby necklace in her trembling hands. On the other hand, Narvi felt how she quickly was filled with pure rage and unexpected humiliation over what Runa just had revealed:

“ _He used his dead wife's betrothal gift in an attempt to get my hand in marriage?! To replace a wife who is said to have died in despair over her history of miscarriages...to use me as a better breeding female?!_ ”

Runa was actually not surprised at all over seeing the Eastern-born Dwarrowdam having a such fit in rage and humiliation. Using a second-hand courting gift like this necklace would be akin to Calder not viewing Narvi as important in terms of being a person with her own feelings and thoughts instead of just a silent, obedient doll to be presented at holiday festivals and to have her become pregnant with a son and heir to his family name.

“Go...please leave for a little while before I do something against you I may regret later when I have calmed down…” Narvi whispered without seeing over her shoulder. Runa could only nod without a word in faint terror, taking her late mother's necklace in her hands and hurrying out from the working shop.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, in the spa center:

“How was the journey to the Blue Mountains, my Dam? I hope that it was not too much trouble, given your high age.”

Freja sighed faintly in pleasure as the firm yet gentle massage slowly softened her stiff muscles in her whole body, getting old was not easy. Thia worker had known her for nearly all his adult life and career, so he was not afraid of sharing te lastest gossip and such with her. This untold information was also a way for Freja to quickly learn if there was something that could threaten her family in some way. She may only be a member of the Line of Durin by marriage, but there was a reason to why she had created a huge net of skilled warriors that could be ready to protect the royal family from any possible attempted assassination and all that without even looking like warriors. After all, you could use a lot of things to defend yourself or something in need of protection, not just classical weapons.

“Since I do not know when it is my turn to come to the Halls of the Forefathers, I wanted to see my birthhome and birth-clan of the Broadbeams one last time. Well, not much had thankfully changed except for the people around, very few of my own generation are still around nowadays but l am not too surprised over that. As for the fact that I was gone for about two years...it is a bit of travel, and then I wanted to stay there for a few months as it is no fun to return home after only a few days or weeks away, not counting the time it always takes to travel…”

The now 245-year-old Queen Dowager took a deep, relaxing breath as the massage was finished. Now it was time to wash of the massage oil from her body and then for some time in the sauna before she would have her white hair and beard braided in a modest way to fit her age and social status and then dressing before it was time to leave. After all, she had a family dinner to attend later this evening and she had a feeling that it might be revealed something nice during the dinner.

“Are any of the sauna rooms free?”

“Room nr three have only one older Dwarrowdam in it, my Dam, so I believe that you should be able to share without too much trouble,” answered another of the spa workers as he passed by with basket of fruits for the spa guests to eat. Nodding as a sign of having heard him, Freja washed off and then went to the sauna room nr three after covering herself with a large towel, after all it was one thing to have your body seen by a fellow Dwarrowdam and a male Dwarf who was not close kin.  

“Pardon me for letting out some of the pleasant hot air inside here, I am enter…”

Suddenly both Freja and the old Dwarrowdam inside the sauna room stopped in their movements, both equally shocked as they saw each other's tattoo: a triquetra inside a circle on Freja's right upper arm and a tattoo of leaves on the other Dwarrowdam's right collarbone. Each one a tattoo the other Dwarrowdam had not seen for the past two-hundred years.

“Frigga?” whispered Freja in shock, while Frigga said in a slightly louder voice by surprise:

“Freja!?”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Back in her workshop, Narvi had managed to calm down enough much to not risk to harm Runa in her anger.

“Give this letter to your father when you return home and tell him that if I see him around here in another attempt to court me, he will get more than just the traditional slap of warning that he is crossing a line in courtship,” she spoke in a somewhat cold voice while handing over a rolled parchment to the younger Dwarrowdam. Runa could only nod in agreement, secretly sending several mental prayers to Aulë in gratitude that the Eastern-born Dwarrowdam did not want to become her stepmother. She liked Narvi and felt at ease around her, but the mere thought of how this strong personality would be broken over time in a marriage to her father was enough to already cause nightmares for her.

“I will. And to be honest, I would really prefer my father to never marry a new wife, mostly for the simple fact that any wife of his would never be allowed to have a easy life around my father and grandfather. They...are not too proud over having me, a rare-born Dwarrowdam in the family as their only legal heir should both of them soon go to the Halls of the Forefathers, they want me to either have a younger brother born from a stepmother or at least a husband as fellow heir…”

Narvi tried to not openly facepalm at what Runa said, she had guessed as much before the albino Dwarrowdam even had opened her mouth to speak. Calder and Mimir was that kind of in-laws that was every Dwarrowdam's worst nightmare to have.

“And they wonder why it is so hard fot them to find a new wife for your father...no, keep praying to the Maker that you will find a kind husband and get away from your birth family. Sometimes it is better to first wait and see what happens before you need to take action yourself.”

Runa nodded, she could see the logic in that and besides, she was not too sure herself if she even would dare to stand up against her two male relatives but anything that would annoy them were good in her eyes.

“Indeed, and I hope so too.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

That evening, the whole family noticed that Frigga seemed to be distracted for some unknown reason. It was not yet Balder's date of death, so it must be something else.

“Gran, Gran, Gran, Grandma,” repeated Loki in a attempt to make Frigga focus on the dinner Ala just had placed on the table. Finally, after adding a rather hard poke in her arm, Loki managed to make Frigga stop thinking.

“Yes, dear Loki? What is it, sweetie?” Frigga wondered. For a short moment, everyone else around the dinner table wondered mentally if she had started to enter that state of high age when the mind was starting to get froggy, but Frigga's green eyes were as clear as ever.

“You...were deep into your thnking mind, mother-in-law, we tried to make you remember that it is time for dinner…” Ala said, trying to break the nervous feeling in the air. Only raising a eyebrow in answer, Frigga nodded to them to start serving the soup. They did eat in silence for some minutes, before Frigga mentioned:

“I met a very old friend from my youth...someone who I have not seen since that day I understood that I was going to have your father fourteen months later, since I ran away from the Blue Mountains the same evening in fear for the social ostracism I would be given despite that I was tricked into breaking one of the biggest taboos for a Dwarrowdam…”

They could hear on her voice that her old friend could be trusted with keeping quiet about the family secret, yet they all shuddered at the reminder of how Mimir had ruined Frigga's life as very young Dwarrowdam.

“Let's eat before the soup turns cold….huh?”

Suddenly there was a knock on the front door to their home. Sighing, Odin put down his spoon at his bowl and went to open, being the current head of the Asar family. Sharing a quiet look of mischief, Narvi and Loki quickly grabbed the last piece of bread from the bread basket together and shared it under the table as their mother was focused on trying to listen on what Odin said at the front door, while Frigga only smiled at what her granddaughters were doing. Finally, Odin returned back to the dining room with a letter in his hand, looking far from pleased.

“Odin, what is wrong?” Ala wondered, having a bad feeling about this. And her son confirmed it.

“A dinner invitation from the House of Frost, tomorrow evening at their house. If I have read between the lines right, they want to place a marriage offer for Narvi.”

Now everyone's appetite really was spoiled, especially as Ala had done her best to cook a chicken soup everyone normally loved with what she could have gotten her hands on in the market, from outright disapproval over those news.

“Sorry for wasting your time to cook the soup, Amad…” Loki spoke as she pushed her bowl with soup away.

“Yeah, really sorry…”

Ala felt that she really could not blame her family for losing their appetite over those news, so she said nothing. The soup would not be ruined that quickly and it worked as breakfast too. Yet, as she looked around, she saw that Frigga's eyes were cold in icy fury, not a good sign given how much Frigga hated the House of Frost and how protective she was of Narvi. Being a female soul in a male body ensured that Loki was safe from such risks, bur Narvi, who was born in a real female body, had to be extra careful. Even Dwarves had horror-stories about bride kidnappnings and other reasons to why their daughters had to be guarded so carefully in order to become forced wives in a unhappy marriage.

“Keep yourself calm, everyone. I have a idea for how to escape that dinner without risking a scene that could end in a marriage contact. However, I need you to keep my real name hidden, revealing it or my tattoo of leaves on my collarbone in front of Mimir will make him realize who I am…”

Frigga could not afford that, or losing Narvi to the same family who once had ruined her life, to happen. Wishing revenge was one thing, but one had to be careful to not destroy the lives of your own descendants as well.


	15. A crime committed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens for Narvi

If anything, Narvi was rather worried about what Frigga may have for plans about the dinner invitation from the House of Frost. Knowing what Mimir had done to her grandmother, Narvi did not doubt that she may plan to turn their game against themselves in some way. 

“Grandmother is pretty bitter even after those two-hundered years after all...and I really can not blame her for that. Not when it ruined all her hopes and dreams for the future that she once had when it happened…”

Narvi signed deeply as she removed her dark green dress and her underwear in order to enter the bath chamber. She and her friends had planned a day for relaxing and spending time together in the bath house. With Hathai being engaged and Chipo on the way to be as well along with how busy Narvi was in her work as a stonecutter, who knew how often they could meet like this in the future. 

“I hope that it will not backfire on us. Getting caught in a such scandal would ruin our family and risk to cause trouble for our possible descendants as well…” Freeing her hair from the braid so it hung freely along her back, Narvi took a towel and entered the bath chamber.  

 

The bath chamber was filled with stream from the hot water, but there were buckets with cold water to use if one felt too warm from the heat. But for Narvi, who was born and raised in the Orocarni, the heat was not much trouble. After all, the bath chambers in the Orocarni were meant to keep the Dwarves cool in the heat, and they generally had to be careful in handling the water as wasting water was not acceptable in a place where it was very dry and difficult to have larger animals which needed a lot of food and water, something that was not always easy to get your hands on. 

“Over here, Narvi!” called Chipo with a handwave somewhere in the stream, somewhat easier to see in the stream because of her dark skin. 

“Hello, nice to see you again. How are things going with your gentlemen?” Narvi asked as Hathai moved a bit aside to give room so she could carefully enter the bath pool where they were, sighing while sinking down in the water. 

“Oh, it is going so well, that I actually dare hope for a possible betrothal soon!” Chipo giggled in joy. Hathai and Narvi laughed in agreement that it was good news indeed. Every wedding among the Dwarven race was seen as a good omen, for even if there was no children born to the couple, it still was something postive. 

“What about yourself, Narvi? Anything funny between Odin and Loki yet this week?”

The sometimes dramatic yet friendly sibling fights between her older brother and younger sister had become well-known in the neighborhood since her family had moved to Khazad-dûm. 

“Well...oh?”

A new dwarrowdam had entered, quickly followed by two court ladies behind her. With her raven-black hair and beard, pale skin and black, teardrop-curved eyes, it could only be one lady; Hinata, the Eastern-born Dwarrowdam chosen for the role as Durin's royal concubine, who were twenty years both his and Ragnhild's senior by the age of one-hundred this passed spring. 

“Oh, please do not mind my arrival, please go on,” Hinata requested with a shy smile. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time: 

“I am serious about this, Elrond, if you feels that it is honest and pure feelings you have for Celebrian, then you really should at least try and offer her to come along on a simple walk in the garden or something…” 

While Celebrimbor knew that his own chances of a possible marriage was next to zero thanks to the past actions of his paternal family, he did not want to see someone of his remaining friends having similiar problems caused by being related to the heart and feelings of love. Elrond, who was sitting on a bench beside him, did not meet his adopted cousin's grey eyes. Again his old feelings of uncertainty and doubt about even being a possible husband to Celebrian had surfaced once more. 

“I know...it is just...agh, I can not explain it…”

But Celebrimbor had a good guess of why. After all, Elrond had unknownly picked up some of Maedhros' self-belittering habits she had started to do after being saved by Fingon. Given  _ what _ she had believed to have lost there, Celebrimbor did not doubt that the believed loss of her only child Rûsa as a newborn had caused his poor aunt far more heartache than what she ever had revealed. Losing a child, especially in a such horrible place as Angband, would be enough to break the hope of any parent. 

“Now you are being stupid, Elrond, you should not give up a chance with Clebrian before you even have tried. And I remember pretty clearly that aunt Maedhros and uncle Maglor did give me permission to warm your behind if needed, even if you are a adult since a long time back.”

Remembering too well the few times Maedhros had spanked him and Elros, using her metal right hand to spank them in order to show just how angry they had made their guardians by some stupid strunt, Elrond made a point of sliding away a step extra from Celebrimbor while remaining seated on the stone bench. Maedhros was the main reason to why Elrond and Elros had grown up with the knowledge that women could actually be far more frightening than men sometimes, having seen her kill a large pack of orcs almost by herself in what which could only be described as a strange mixture of going berserk and cold fury in battle. And that event had happened only a few weeks after the Third Kinslaying, as they had been traveling from Sirion to Himring. While Maglor had blocked their eyes from the sight, he had not been able to block out the battle noise as well, along with how Maedhros had screamed very foul curses in Quenya targeted at Sauron and Morgoth. 

“I get the hint…” Elrond answered nervously at the memory of Maedhros' less than pleased face when she was either seriously angry or disappointed in him and Elros which often had been their only warning of the coming punishment. 

“Good.” 

Pleased with the answer, Celebrimbor went back to polishing a silver dagger he planned to give as a gift to crown prince Durin on a dinner invitation the next evening. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

After a few hours in the bath house with her friends, Narvi thought it was enough for her and left the bathing area. After drying off herself while gently refusing the offer of an small make-over before she left, she went to dress herself. 

“Hm...where is my clothes? My green dress should be easy to see...” Narvi wondered in confusion as she went thought the long line of different clothes and could only find her underwear. First thinking that the clothing pile may have slipped off as it was pushed further along the wooden bench where the clothes laid in a neat order, she searched under it. Then, in slowly growing horror, Narvi realized what must had happened; her clothes had been stolen from the dressing room while she was in the bath. Turning around so she hurried back into the bath chamber, Narvi called: 

“Chipo, Hathai! Please get over here, I need one of you to find someone from the city guards and the other one to find Loki at the south-eastern bakery with the request to get me a new set of clothes from home, as someone have dared to steal all of my clothing from the dressing room while we were in the bath!” 

“ _ What?! _ ” 

More than one of the present Dwarrowdams stopped in what they were doing at hearing what Narvi said. Stealing from a Dwarrowdam was seen as a very high disrespect for her, and a stealing of her clothes tended to be viewed as an rather intrimate crime seeing that only the males of a Dwarrowdam's family would be allowed to touch her clothes before her husband was allowed to do such. 

“I will tell this personally to Durin right away, this thief will not be allowed to get away with this,” Hinata said in a calm yet perfectly frosty tone as she rose from the bath where she had been in.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Naturally, the news of the stolen clothes were not kept silent once Hinata had come back to the royal chambers and requested them to met up for what she had to tell them. The fact that all of Narvi's clothes, and not from anyone else, had been stolen from the dressing room could mean that she possibly could have some kind of stalker trying to keep a eye on her. 

“Is there some people who have been acting oddly at a mention of her? Something the other Dwarrowdams may have seen or noticed?” Freja wondered as the royal family had gathered in her private chambers to speak about this mysterious crime, herself sitting in a comfortable chair while the others were standing. 

“Outside that miss Runa from the House of Frost sent a letter, which she requested to be hidden from others, about that she worried for that her father and grandfather seems to be set on making miss Narvi the second wife of lord Calder? Not what I knows about,” Tora responded, remembering the surprising simple letter she had found among all the others on her desk the past afternoon. Skadi, who had been busy with her duties as Queen consort all day, had not noticed anything out of order, the same for Vern. And Frerin had been away with some of the city guards to check on how security was in the mines for the mine workers. 

“Still, stealing the clothes of a Dwarrowdam is a serious crime. And we have to find out if this is a sign of a possible bride-kidnapping about to happen,” Durin said, making the five present Dwarrowdams shudder in horror at the deeper meaning of his words. Kidnappning to become a wife in a forced marriage was one of the most horrible things that could happen to a Dwarrowdam. It was an extremly rare crime, and while only a few cases had been recorded since the awakening of the seven Fathers of the Dwarves, yet it still proved to be a part of the darker side with the Dwarrowdams being only one-third of their race. 

“I will try and investigate this secretly, there is no need to draw unneeded attention towards the Asar family because of this crime against their daughter, at least not before the trial when we have found out why her clothes were stolen.” offered Frerin with a light bow, knowing how busy the other family members would be with their royal duties. As the legal wife of the future King, Ragnhild would not be able to investigate crimes without it becoming very publical, the same for Skadi and Freja. But Frerin would be able to get help by Hinata, whose family had a fairy good eye when it came to investigate crimes. 

“I will start looking at this tomorrow when I leaves for the market, honored marriage-uncle. After all, are there not a more joyful new to be revealed tomorrow?” Hinata responded with a meaningful look at a blushing Ragnhild who held her hands on her lower belly, using a respectful title to Frerin since she was only a royal concubine not bound by marriage to Durin but still an indirect part of the royal family.

“Good, then we have a starting plan at least.”

With either an respectful bow or curtsy, the different royal family members then left Freja's chamber. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Hinata is a Japanese name meaning "sunny place". Given how rare Dwarrowdams are, being only one-third of their race, I think crimes committed against them would be seen as a very dishonoring.


	16. 16. Self-control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are many times a good self-control can be needed

As it currently was, Narvi and her family could not avoid the dinner invitation from the House of Frost. It was with great aversion that they arrived at the great house, all dressed in some of their finest clothing, not their very best ones, which were reserved for the Dwarven holidays. Frigga had surprised her family with dressing up in a jade-coloured silk dress she rarely wore, along with several rather complicated pieces of silver jewelry she once had gotten from Balder as a birthday gift.    

“Lets try and get this over as quickly as possible, I have already warned the owner of the Blue Light tavern that if we manage to leave early from here, we will eat there. And knowing Mimir, he will still have some poor excuse for food despite being a noble House and likely not changed anything in the house since moving there with his legal wife for nearly 200 years ago. I remember over hearing his mother saying something that she had already arranged for the move soon after the wedding,” Frigga told them, all her three grandchildren and daughter-in-law nodding in understanding. They had eaten at that tavern before since it was well-known for its simple yet much pleasant food and welcoming atmosphere.   

“Aye, grandmother.”

“The less time we spend here, the better,” Narvi muttered under her breath as she lifted her long skirt so she would not trip over it by mistake.

“Welcome, my lord and ladies,” greeted a servant as he held up the front door for them.

 

Frigga was right, the taste for the indoor details inside was horrible; a lot of red, very bright red which was unpleasantly reminding Narvi about fresh blood, and the patterns in gold looked cold and rather lifeless for anyone who had grown up among the many colours and styles of the Orocarni. And where, oh where was the more gentle touch of a long-passed wife?! There was nothing that showed the missing presence of the two wives Mimir and Calder had lost. No sign of mourning, nothing. And the details had far too many rubies around, they almost transformed into blood drops if one looked at them for too long.

“I stand true by my word; I will **_NOT_ ** marry Calder to become his second wife, this house is too suffocating!” Narvi whispered to Ala, who seemed to agree with her oldest daughter on this.  

“Hopefully Runa manage to find a possible husband quickly so she can move out of there, even if she were to be a  rather young bride…”

Heavy steps from the stairs, along with the sound of a walking stick, told of their hosts' coming. First came Lord Mimir of the House of Frost, and he was old with snow white hair and beard, although there was still a hint to that he must have been handsome in his youth. The same for his son Calder, whose blond hair was stained with silver, following behind his father. Yet both father and son shared a cold, rather unpleasant and humourless look in their eyes. Behind them, Runa in her wine-red dress would have seemed like a terrified ghost even if she had not been born as a albino. Again she wore a specially-cut face veil that also went around her head to hide the burnmark around her right eye.

“My Lords, miss Runa.”

As the oldest family member, Frigga held the right to stand beside Odin at their greeting. She did a proper curtsy, but there was something in the way she straightened her back that told Narvi of the cold fury burning in her grandmother. No doubt that the old Dwarrowdam wished nothing else than revealing her true name and what Mimir had done to her before pushing Mimir into the great fireplace where a fire was burning.

“Welcome, all of you. Pleasant to see that there are non-nobles who manage to be on time for once.”

Only first greeting and he was already insulting them for their social standing?! Oh, now Narvi really could start imagine how heartbroken Frigga must have been at being dishonored by Mimir all those years back.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The dining room was a little nicer for the eye, with some soft blue added to the walls there. The dinner table was already set, and Frigga was quickly seating herself at the middle so she and Ala blocked any sight of Narvi from Calder and Mimir. If that was not a signal to that they would not accept a marriage offer when it was offered, what would?

“Bring in the starting meal.”

A brown-bread soup with onions, spices, pepper, salz, some sugar and dark ale. Normally Narvi would have enjoyed the fine meal because of how much effort the cooks must have put into it, but knowing exactly what kind of events that once had happened between Frigga and Mimir, she found herself not hungry at all.

“You said that you moved here from the Blue Mountains about two-hundred years ago, right?”

Thankfully, Odin and Ala was the ones to do most of the talking during the whole meal. Frigga glared at Mimir when he did not see it, clearly using all her self-control to not lash out at him now when he was so close to her again. Instead, Narvi tried to focus on the offered food:

Roasted wild boar with a garlic sauce, a bowl filled with peas and carrots to be added to the meat, a big place with different kinds of bread and cheese. The ale was of a fine brand as well, but the current event failed to let her enjoy it as she may have done in a different situation.

“ **WHAT?!** What do you mean, woman?!”

The sudden outburst from Mimir made Narvi stop from eating on the pear pudding they just had been served as dessert. She was not the only one to be shocked by the sudden turn in the talk.

“I mean that if there is a possible chance of marriage between our families, it is not only dear Narvi who can stand as the bride. On behalf of my grandson Odin, I ask for the hand of Runa.”

Odin was far from alone to drop his cutlery by her words.

“Are you mad?! People will claim that she marries below her birth status…!” Mimir started to protest in badly hidden anger.

“It is a greater possibility for children if both parents are closer in age, Odin and Runa are born with only about 40 years between them, while your son and my granddaughter is having a noticeable bigger age difference on 95 years. There is a far greater risk that she will end up widowed in the best years of her life in a such marriage.”

As she spoke, Frigga rose from her chair, walking over to where Runa was seated and placed a hand on her shoulder. The albino Dwarrowdam honestly looked terrified at the sudden reveal that she could maybe already be a possible bride despite only being 45 years old.

“And we are not exactly poor, together my unwed grandchildren holds a heritage from their late father Balder on about fifty chests of gold and silver together for all three, so we can both give a reasonable bride price for a bride to Odin and still not have to worry about the dowry for the possible husbands to Narvi and Loki in the future. I am much pleased to reveal that my dear son was a very successful merchant. Besides, in the Orocarni...it is not uncommon for a noble-born bride to marry a husband of lesser social status. Or is there any truth in the rumours about your economic crisis and you can only fix it by finding a bride with a good-sized dowry?”

That seemed to be the breaking point, along with Frigga's self-confident smile, as Mimir slammed his hands on the table.

“ ** _Enough! Get out! Get out of this house and do not show your faces here again!_ ** ”

That was not an order they needed to get shouted at with, but the five members of the Asar family left the table without a word in good-bye.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, in Ost-in-Edhil;

Galadriel watched Celebrian struggle with the bow and arrow. Her daughter was a peaceful soul, but her parents knew the importance that she at least knew the basics in how to defend herself with a weapon. Celebrian had personally agreed on that she was no Maedhros of her generation, a surviving warrior hidden under the shell of a royal princess, but she still had wished to try and know how to use a weapon.

“Nanaeth, are this looking good?” Celebrian asked without looking away from the target. As she had expected, the arrow missed.

“You need to relax more in the shoulders, dear daughter of mine, or you will…” Galadriel started, before Celebrian let another arrow fly. A sudden cry in surprise was heard as the arrow flew over the target. Both mother and daughter hurried over to see if someone had been hurt.

 

Celebrian had avoided shooting someone, but a poor elf named Erestor had a mix of shock and anger on his face where he currently was being nailed to a tree by a long sleeve by the arrow, having dropped a small amount of parchments in the shock.

“If I am allowed to say so, my ladies, so do I honestly think that milady Celebrian matches milord Elrond...in that you both are horrible archers,” he said in a less than pleased voice as Galadriel helped him get free.

“There you once again proves that you were born and raised as a servant in my late cousin's household at Himring. No wonder you wanted to help Elrond out after leaving them. Or was it a secret order from Maedhros?” Galadriel answered while Celebrian blushed heavily over his words, pretending to look a different way.

“Milady Maedhros was always worried for her foster-nephews, even if she did not show it. The loss of so many family members did affect her, so it was only natural that she secretly was somewhat overprotective when it came to them and milord Maglor. Not that l blame her for such actions even after all this time,” Erestor responded as he knelt down to pick up the parchments from the ground where he had dropped them. Then, after giving the two ladies a light bow, he left for the office where he had been on his way earlier when the stray arrow from Celebrian had nailed him to the tree by the sleeve.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

When Runa later was getting ready for bed, she suddenly heard the sound of something that had become very common in the house ever since her much-missed mother's passing twenty years earlier.

“ _...needs a male heir…_ ”

“ _I am not marrying Runa off to a merchant family from the Orocarni!_ ”

Oh, the joy. Her father and grandfather was having a argument again. Well, seeing how the dinner had ended, it was no wonder. Personally Runa was just glad that her father had not managed to give a marriage offer for Narvi thanks to her grandmother suddenly changing the tables in their talk about a possible union by marriage.

“... _not my fault that my wife turned out to be weak when it came to carrying children!_ ”

Now Runa quickly covered her ears, she did not want to hear her dead Amad being insulted by her own husband and father-in-law. Oh, how unhappy her Amad had been during her life because of her tragic inability to bear a male heir to the House of Frost. A long history of miscarriages or stillbirths, where Runa was the only surviving child after yet another difficult birth, had drained her mother's poor health to the point that the next miscarriage had ended up causing a serious internal bleeding which quickly had ended the life of her mother.

“ ** _I really need to find a way out of this hell! I am of age from this just-passed winter, so I am old enough to marry...true, not many would want a such young bride and given my poor Amad's unfortunate history of childbearing along with along with the far too well-known unpleasant characters of my father and grandfather…but still..._ ** ”

Recalling what Narvi had said about Odin and the rather shocking words from their paternal grandfather about a possible marriage between them instead of Narvi becoming her stepmother along with the strange feeling she had felt the whole event when looking at her grandfather and the old Dwarrowdam, Runa suddenly felt the beginning of a head-arche coming. Then a sharp pain from the old burnmark at her right eye. Not good, it was a sign on her coming migraine and that she needed to take her painkiller medicine or her grandfather would only be even more displeased than what he already was.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

With the royal family, Hinata and Ragnhild was doing some last-minute checking on the dresses they were to wear the following day.

“Only five years of marriage and the Green Lady have already blessed you and Durin! Oh, imagine if it is a little princess you have been carrying for the past and a half season!” Hinata giggled like a young girl. Ragnhild blushed, then started to laugh as well.  

“Oh yes, a little daughter to name after Dis, the wife of Durin the Deathless!” Ragnhild smiled, her hands held palm to palm in joy at that thought. A son was a bless, but if she was to give birth to a daughter she would be granted the title of “Life Bloomer”, a rare title given only to Dwarrowdams who gave birth to a daughter.

“Well, if this good luck keeps following our common family, you may also find yourself blessed with the next generation soon, Hinata.”

If one were to ignore the tiredness and slight bloating along with a small dislike for some of her earlier favorite foods Ragnhild had been suffering from during the past four and a half months because of her pregnancy, she was looking great. It was a new shimmer in her blue eyes that had not been there before, her hair was thicker than earlier and something about her way of holding herself in a regal manner was different.

“My darling ladies to wives, where are you? We spoke about having a little music training together, remember?” Durin called from the adjusting music chamber, a soft sound revealing that he already had started playing on his own harp.

“Heh, heh, we are really spoiling him with our music talents,” Ragnhild laughed as she and Hinata turned around. The red-haired Crown princess finished the last of her mead from the golden goblet which a servant had left on the table earlier, before following after her husband's royal concubine. A music eventing was always nice, as it offered some relaxing time for all three of them.

 

On the other hand, not everyone was able to truly relax this fine early summer evening. Queen Dowager Freja was once again looking over the secret letter she had gotten from Runa the evening before. If she was right, the much younger Dwarrowdam had actually spared her a great deal of trouble if something strange happened in the next coming days.

“The House of Frost are known for causing trouble in the background already with Mimir trying to find a new bride for Calder...and the mysterious thief who stole miss Narvi's clothes have to be found and getting a trial for that crime as well…I do not doubt for a moment that it may be a link between them, but l needs proof of it too...”

She sighed, wishing that she could share the good mood of her grandson and his two ladies but currently had a rather good reason to be unable to do so. Freja leant back in her chair, rubbing her forehead as she felt her old age. More than ever, she wished for her late husband Freyr to still have been alive so she could get his help in this. She may have lived in Khazad-dûm for nearly her whole life yet now she felt like her young seventy-year-old self from that time so long ago when she first had arrived to this powerful Dwarven realm as a possible royal bride and in the end, becoming the future Queen of her royal husband.

“And yet, at that time, Frigga had already...oh, curse you to the black pits of the Dark Vala, Mimir! How you could ruin the life of an orphaned, not yet-of-age impoverished Dwarrowdam in that way...something neither Frigga or myself have forgiven you for! And if you thinks that you will manage to get her own granddaughter as a second wife for your son, then you are horribly wrong!!”

_CRASH!!_

The sound of her now broken silver crown, one of the many wonderful gifts from her husband during their marriage, broke Freja's anger for a couple of moments. Great, she rarely lost her temper like this and now she had lost some of her infamous self-control. Oh well, the crown could be fixed with some help of a skilled jewel-smith in her personal service. But the long-running damage of Frigga's life, her ruined youth and lost innocence...there was no way to repair that without ruining the House of Frost as punishment for what Mimir had done. His crime was a Forbidden Crime, a serie of crimes so terrible by the Dwarven rules that if it was revealed, the whole House of Frost would be a Fallen House to the point of becoming extinct in the male line and the same later in the female line that Runa could have created.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I imagine that the Dwarves have a long list of so called Forbidden Crimes, which is punishable by death. A so-called Fallen House would be a Dwarven family who have gone extinct in both the male and female line thanks to a such crime.


	17. Dangers ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens in the royal family, and Celebrimbor's past arrives to haunt him again...

When Narvi awoke the next morning, she had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. That kind of feeling one tends to get when the day is not going to end well and it would have been a lot safer to just remain in bed all day. However, Narvi had work to do and there were also things to deliver to the buyers today,       

“Narvi, while you are going out, can you maybe bring this to lady Siv? It is the baby clothes for her new baby,” Ala wondered as she held out a small basket. Nodding, Narvi took it. The other family lived not too many houses away from them on the way to her working place and remembering how it was when Loki had been new into the world, Narvi did not blame the new mother for being unable to get her ordering herself.   

“See you later, Amad, grandmother Frigga.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the royal palace, Hinata had offered to bring a breakfast tray to the chambers that belonged to Ragnhild. She felt that her friend deserved to sleep in a little, with her pregnancy making her extra tired.  

“Ragnhild, are you awake? l have some breakfast with me for you.”

Ragnhild moved around in bed before sitting up. She tended to have her red hair braided during sleep, as it was easier to not end up with a serious need of brushing in the morning thanks to that.

“Good morning…” the crown princess greeted in a half-asleep voice, slowly freeing herself from the many blankets she had been sleeping in like a nest. Ragnhild was bit sensitive for colder temperatures, which explained why she had so many blankets in her bed.

“I have some tea for you if you want to wake up with something warm in your stomach.”

“Thank you, Hinata…”

However, Hinata had barely given Ragnhild the cup with tea, when a strange sound was heard from somewhere in the chambers further in.

“What was that?” Ragnhild wondered in slight worry as she put down the tea cup on the bed table and removed a blanket to sit up at the bed side. Hinata, who already was dressed in light shoes, turned around.

“Please remain in bed, I will see what it is that caused that noise. If it is a rat, then I will complain to the servants that they are lacking in their duties to keep things clean here for you…”

 

Walking up to the half-open door to the other chamber, Hinata opened it fully. Only to have Ragnhild’s grey pet cat rush out with a toy mouse in its mouth.

“Oh, it was only Jewel,” Ragnhild said with relief as her cat jumped up in her lap, proudly showing off the toy mouse, purring loudly as the crown princess started to pet her.   

“Silly cat, scaring us like that…”

Hinata stopped talking at seeing the sudden change in Ragnhild's eyes; they were wide in a terrified way she had ever seen before. It also added to the odd behavior of the grey cat which quickly hissed in warning, since the cat normally had nothing against Hinata.

“Ragn…”

Suddenly the cat jumped up in the air and Hinata ducked for it by instinct as it came towards her face. But a big hand over her mouth prevented Hinata from speaking, on the same time as another masked Dwarf stopped Ragnhild from trying to scream on help.  

“Hold them still!”

It was more than just two unknown Dwarves in there, who held the royal ladies still despite their attempts to get free.

“ _No! I do not like this horrible feeling that their real target is the unborn baby Ragnhild is carrying! I have to do something…!!_ ”

But even if both Ragnhild and Hinata was strong like most Dwarrowdams as a result of how their Maker had created them, the male Dwarves were more heavily built than them. Forcing Ragnhild to kneel, a small glass bottle with a unfamiliar red liquid was then forced between her lips.

“No…!”

A sharp pain in the back of her head caused Hinata to pass out, at the same time as Ragnhild felt a worrying sharp pain in her stomach. She gasped in pain, unable to move as they let her collapse down on the stone floor.

“The poison should already have started to work, lets take that concubine and get rid of her as per our orders.”

“ _Orders...someone paid them to kidnap Hinata?!_ ”

Ragnhild knew that not everyone liked how she had been chosen as Durin's consort and Hinata as his concubine to be an extra help to get a child if Ragnhild could not get a child herself, and that there were many hidden dangers to becoming part of a royal family. This was one of them, possible assassination.

“ _l must tell...tell Durin…!_ ” she thought in horror as she slowly began to fall unconscious, her sight becoming blurry as she watched the unconscious Hinata get tossed over a shoulder like a sack of flour and the masked Dwarves hurried out by a hidden door which only the royal family were supposed to know about. Did that mean someone had spied on them…?

 

The grey cat was not happy at all over those unpleasant, rude male Dwarves who had injured her mistress and that other female Dwarf with black hair. Yet the cat was wise enough that her sharp claws and teeth would not a good defense against the Dwarves. No, here one of the royal guards were needed! She meowed loudly to be heard, knowing that not everyone liked when she was being noisy.

“Meow! Meow! _MEOW!!!_ ”

There was one of the guards she liked. The guard in question, a blonde Dwarf named Orvar, was rather surprised to suddenly get his face full with grey fur as the cat jumped straight on him.

“Ai! Easy there, Jewel!” Orvar cried in surprise as he carefully removed the cat from his face, earning a couple of accidental claw marks on his cheeks. While the grey cat was not the most social one he had met, he knew that something must be wrong if she had left her owner since it was well-known how much Jewel loved her owner Ragnhild.

“Calm down, ye silly cat, I am on the way…”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Not many minutes after, just as Freja was about to sign some important papers for Vern as he currently was away on a meeting, she heard several heavy running steps coming towards her office. With a deep sigh, she quickly wrote her name and title down on the document in front of her on the desk so she would not be bothered in the middle of writing.

“Who is i…” she started, only to see the door be thrown open with a loud **_CRASH!!_ **

“Queen Dowager Freja! Your two grand-daughters by marriage have been attacked!” a terrified guard spoke, using the title Ragnhild and Hinata had a right to be talked about in public. Feeling a ice-cold horror in her whole body at those words, she nearly screamed:

“Where?! Where are they!?”

“Crown princess Ragnhild were found unconscious in her bed chamber by the guard Orvar, showing signs of having been poisoned, and we are still trying to find lady Hinata…”

Ragnhild was attacked with poison and Hinata was missing?! Since Freja knew how close the two young Dwarrowdams were, in both sharing Durin as a husband and in a more deeper relationship, she did not think Hinata was to blame for whatever had happened to Ragnhild. They were far too close to suddenly become rivals over the unborn child Ragnhild was carrying under her heart at the moment.

“Find Hinata, now! If anything happens to either one of them....if someone have harmed them in order to bring an end to the Line of Durin, those people will pay dearly for this crime with their own lives!”

Unknown to Freja, Hinata were not the only young Dwarrowdam found to have gone missing this morning…

~X~X~X~X~X~X

“So, this is the biggest mine here?” Celebrimbor asked as he peeked inside the opening. He and Elrond had been invited by Frerin to get a look at the mines, the Dwarf prince thinking that it could be something new for them to see.

“Aye. But it is old and unsteady,  having been started sometime in the last years of Durin the Deathless, so now it is off-limits for security. There have been several fatal accidents in the past, the last one just six months ago, which we can not afford to happen. So it will be sealed off in the next coming days.” Frerin explained while Celebrimbor handed back the lantern to a body guard of the prince. Elrond nodded, agreeing with that view as a healer.

“Wise. No life should be lost in an accident if it can be prevented,” the Half-elven spoke, his grey eyes getting a quick look of sorrow in them. Celebrimbor could guess what he was meaning, Elrond had often mentioned his grief over not be able to prevent Maedhros or Rûsa from leaving the Noldorin camp as they had, only to end up dead. Well, no one had been able to guess how that escape would end, but Elrond had wished to save Rûsa for Maedhros' sake because he was her son.

“Indeed, even the common people are worth more than what narrow-minded people thinks. After all, common-born and noble-born Dwarrowdams have all an equivalent chance to marry into the seven Royal Lines of the Dwarves.”

The two Elves nodded, knowing that Dwarrowdams were rare among their race.

“Say, prince Frerin, how would you say about…”

Suddenly Celebrimbor heard the faint sound of a arrow flying towards him. Pushing Elrond out of the way so the healer would not be harmed, he then turned around just in time to avoid getting the arrow hit him.

_Tuk!_

Understandable, the body guards quickly hurried to stand around Frerin in case it was an attack aimed at him. Looking up to see where the arrow had come from, Celebrimbor mentally cursed at realizing who the archer was; a She-elf from Doriath who had gone insane from the massive trauma of seeing Curufin kill her husband in the Second Kinslaying and who had lost her sanity completely at losing their unborn child in a miscarriage caused by the shock.

“She is still alive!? Oh for the sake of the Valar, does she never give up on getting you killed in your father's or other family members' stead since you are the only one of your family left here in Middle-Earth?!” Elrond wondered in quickly growing anger from where he had fallen, at seeing the female Elf too. Both he and Celebrimbor knew of her, as she had tried to kill Maedhros and Maglor a couple of times in the War of Wrath. When that had failed because the two Feanorians were far too skilled in battle to be killed that easily, she had tried to kill Celebrimbor instead.

“Looks like that...pardon me, prince Frerin, but it looks like I needs to hide in here!”

“Wha…” Frerin started in confusion, before Celebrimbor took the lantern and jumped into the mine opening, running down into the darkness to hide from the insane She-elf who were quick to follow after him despite Elrond's attempt to stop her.

“And that proves you have the Feanorian way of being stupid too, idiot!” Elrond called after Celebrimbor, despite knowing that he likely did not hear it. Sighing in anger, he then gave the shocked Dwarves a quick explanation about Celebrimbor's past and why the female Elf was so set on killing him.

“We have to send guards to protect him...hm?”

A royal servant who served in the household of Durin, came running towards them as if his very life depended on it.

“Prince Frerin! Prince Frerin, you needs to come...crown princess Ragnhild have been poisoned and lady Hinata is missing!! Master Elf, they says that you are a healer so please come and help the royal healers!”

Everyone paled at hearing what he was saying. Elrond rarely turned down someone in need of his healing arts, and this was a situation it could not be done.

“Please take me to her, right now!” Elrond pleaded, knowing that it was important to act quickly if they would not want a death by poisoning to happen.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Something was wrong. It was the first instinct Narvi felt in her whole body, which felt unusually heavy and difficult to move. Also, her clothes did not feel the same as the ones she had worn at leaving to work. Her working clothes were made from simple fabric meant to stand several years of being in use, and those...were tinner, of a much more finer fabric. Like silk.  

“ _I never wear silk clothes outside big events!_ ”

Over her life so far, Narvi had gotten many chances to thank her Maker for the simple fact that her mother Ala was a seamstress and had made Narvi learn how the many different fabrics felt in touch to the skin. Therefore, she forced herself to wake up so she sat up on the massive bed. Her green eyes looked around in the unfamiliar stone chamber, trying to figure out where she was.

“Nether one of the bed chambers in my house is like this…!”

Then, Narvi looked at herself in a adjusted mirror to her left and what she was wearing instead of her working clothes. Something that could only be a wedding dress. The dress was a robe made of the most valuable fabrics; mainly dark red brocade withs embroideries made of gold and silver strings. Pearls highlighted the embroideries and sparkling gems adorned the seam. From the start of her neck, her hair had been braided in many small braids in a very old wedding style from the First Age. On her feet was a set of silver shoes, and she also wore a unfamiliar bride crown in gold with white diamonds and red rubies. But one thing that stuck out, was the chain around her left wrist which kept her chained to a bedpost.

“Enjoying your wedding dress, my lady? It was rather tricky to get hold of your normal clothes in order to make a match so it was not too small given that you are taller than most Dwarrowdams.”

That voice...Calder! So it had been on his orders that her clothes had been stolen, to be used as a base for a wedding dress. That explained why it fit her so well despite that she had not even been to the tailor for a while.

“So you planned to take me as a bride all along...were the dinner invitation just an excuse to get a proper look at me?” Narvi asked carefully, trying to buy time so she could think out an escape plan.

“It is hard to not notice someone like you.”

If it were meant as a compliment, it did not fool Narvi at all. Like all Dwarrowdams, she had been taught from an early age about the dangers of bridenapping and forced marriage. This was a such situation, and she needed to escape quickly unless a suicide attempt became the only way out.

“And why did I have the honor of being chosen as your second wife?” Narvi asked, pretending to be naive as many Dwarrowdams could be rather sheltered by their families before marriage. It seemed like Calder was of that mindset too, given that he was stupid enough to come closer. Then, Narvi revealed another advantage of her unusual height on five feet;

Calder got a very good impression of the pearl details on the silver shoes, as the unexpected kick straight on his family jewels caused him to kneel to the floor in pain. A double kick on the back of his head from above with both feet on the same time, and Narvi using some simple dance moves on her lower body to add in extra weight in the hit, was enough to send Calder into unconsciousness.

“Like the bloody balrogs of the Fallen Vala that I will let myself become a wife in a forced marriage!” Narvi spat in anger as she tore off the bride crown from her head with one hand, tossing it into a wall where it broke into several pieces. She felt a horrible disgust at how close it had been, recalling the truth which Frigga had revealed for her once Narvi had been old enough to understand exactly what Mimir had done to Frigga in her youth.

“There is no way one of the two males in that family is going to make me a bride of theirs! she muttered, reaching down to his belt to grab the key to the chain. Freeing herself, Narvi then took time to tear the wedding dress in pieces as she ripped it from her body. She was not going to spend a moment more in that dress than what she needed to, not when it was a symbol for a future she would have been forced into.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Celebrimbor had finally managed to hid himself from the female Elf somewhere in the darkness of the mine tunnels. He only hoped that it would take a while for her to find him, as he was not in the mood to get haunted by the past sins of his family again. It had been enough bad in Nargothrond after that Finrod had died as an indirect result of the plot to take power by Celegorm and Curufin, along with after the Third Kinslaying.

“About time l got rid of her for some time...but knowing my normal luck, this chase have caused me to get lost in here...typical…” Celebrimbor grumbled to himself irritably, placing his free hand on the stone wall of the tunnel as he looked around in the half-darkness from the lantern, trying to remember which way he had came from. Then, without warning, the wall came tumbling down even though he barely touched it, because Celebrimbor was rather strong from his work as a blacksmith.

“Wah!”

On the other side of the wall, Narvi was now dressed in only her chemise and busy in trying to free her hair out of the small wedding braids, the teared-apart pieces of the red and golden wedding dress tossed around in the chamber.

“Hm?” she wondered at suddenly hearing a strange sound from the wall. _Rumble!!_

Several smaller stones loosened from the old wall, before it fell apart as someone fell into the chamber. After the first shock, Narvi was surprised to see that it was Celebrimbor who fell through the hole.

“Klelebrimbor?” she asked, remembering that he had been mentioned to be among the Elven guests who had arrived to the Dwarven kingdom some days earlier. Groaning, he sat up with one hand on a possible bump in the side of his head.

“Ow…miss Narvi?”

Neither one spoke at first, before Narvi remembered that she basically was half-naked and not having a veil to hide her face behind. Blushing deeply at realizing this, both quickly turned around so their backs faced each other.

“T-that was not i-intended, my lady!” Celebrimbor stuttered, suddenly feeling like he was a big idiot for having indirectly started at her chest for some few moments. Still blushing like he suddenly had gotten a really bad sunburn, Celebrimbor somehow managed to remove his purple long-armed tunic and offered it to Narvi while looking the other way, who understood the unspoken offer to cover herself up.

“Good thing that we are not too far off in height or this would look ridiculously enlarged on me…”

While Celebrimbor was still taller than Narvi on 180 cm, her own 150 cm in height was enough to make his tunic look like how Narvi sometimes had looked like when she was a wee lass and had borrowed her female family members' dresses.

“Thank you for loaning this to me. Now, how come that you are here? I doubt that the royal family would allow you to wander here alone...”

The Elf gave her an odd look at the question, perhaps because of the ripped-apart wedding dress and the unconscious Calder on the floor behind her, then looked nervously over his shoulder.

“Well...how do I start explaining…” he signed, having a feeling that he needed to bring her out from that chamber before someone came and thus offered her his arm to help her climb out through the hole in the wall which he had caused. Narvi remained silent, allowing him to find the right words as they started to walk. She would get time to tell what had happened in the chamber, and also was grateful for that he made a good attempt to not look directly on her face because of that she did not have a good veil to hide behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: And there is the drama between the Frost and Asar families in full effect! The royal concubine Hinata is missing, the crown princess Ragnhild poisoned and two unusual friends meets up again after five years, what will happen?


	18. Dark secrets of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spiritual part of the Dwarven culture is shown, and a family secret is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I am HORRIBLY sorry for this chapter being so long behind the last update back in December, everyone! I got stuck in one of the scenes for a rather long time, along with visiting relatives over the Christmas holidays and tried to break the above mentioned writing trouble. Hopefully I will be able to write the rest of the story without getting stuck like this too many times. Fair warning, there is mention of underaged sexual relationships in this chapter!

While he explained to why he was in the old mine, Celebrimbor carefully guided Narvi to where he had arrived from.                                     

“Typical, so much typical, that something from the past generations ends up causing trouble for their own descendants,” Narvi commented once he finished explaining why the She-elf was trying to kill him in his father's place. Celebrimbor could only nod.                            

“You have a similar case, milady?” he asked, hoping that it was not something really serious as for himself. Narvi looked up at him from a corner of her eye so he did not have to see her face by mistake.    

“Lord Mimir of the House of Frost dishonored my grandmother Frigga little over two-hundred years ago in a way which is one of the Forbidden Crimes of our cultures…the only reason to why it have not been revealed it is that grandmother have slowly been plotting how to pay back without revealing herself.”

Celebrimbor swallowed nervously, recalling how rare Dwarrowdams were and understood that was a deeply-rooted feud. He did not say anything in worry that it may be a wrong thing to say.

“Somehow I can almost hear my aunt laugh in sadness over all of this. She was always seeming so sorrowful over that I ended up in trouble thanks to being her nephew…”

Narvi heard the grief in his voice. She was about to say something, when she suddenly heard something. A soft singing, like from a small child:

 

_You must go back_

_To where we waits_

_Do not fear_

_You will get_

_A new chance_

_To be born_

_Most beloved_

_Royal treasure_

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Back in the royal healing wing, Elrond felt that horrible feeling of failure. He had managed to help the Dwarven healers to save Ragnhild’s life from being taken by the poison, but to a terrible price.

In the grief-stricken Durin’s hands, trembling by his violent crying and partly hidden by the small blanket, laid the miscarried little body meant to have been born as a new little princess of the Line of Durin. Perhaps for the best, Ragnhild was now in a deep sleep after being nearly full unconscious under the miscarriage caused by the poisoning.

“Cases like this…” Elrond whispered for himself as he backed towards a wall, trying to keep control over himself. He had gotten a long way as a healer from the War of Wraith when he was really young, but cases where two lives, those of a mother and a unborn child was involved, tended to remind him about how Maedhros had suffered in the belief that her son Rûsa had been killed almost right after his birth in Angband.

“Still down, lad, you look like you will faint,” offered one of the Dwarven healers gently at seeing how pale he was, pulling on Elrond’s tunic to make him sit down on the chest beside him. The young Half-elven obeyed without really hearing the words, trying to block out the memories of how Maedhros had died.

“Sorry...I had a bad memory coming up...of a great loss which haunted my foster father’s older sister…”

The look of pure grief on her face, the raw sorrow in her eyes every time Maedhros remembered her lost son. Elrond had always hated how broken she had looked in a such moment, how fragile and vulnerable she had seemed unlike how Elrond was used to see her as.

“As if Maedhros was not the only reason to my issues….hm?”

Suddenly, there was loud voices on the other side of the door to the healer where they had brought Ragnhild. Among the voices, were the other members in the royal family.

 

Everyone present had been chattering and discussing about what was going on, when Runa sneaked into the room by the door, closing it again as quietly as possible. They were so busy assuming and guessing that the didn't even notice her. She inhaled a deep breath to avoid her voice to sound weak and shaky, then she spoke out loud:

“M-madam Freja?”

“Yes?”

At first, the Queen Dowager was surprised to see the young Dwarrowdam there, as she was not a close family member or a lady-in-waiting. Then, seeing the worried look in her eyes, she knew that Runa must have an important reason to come here.

“I...c-came here because...my f-father and grandfather...are the ones behind the attack on Crown princess Ragnhild…”

Shocked and paralysed everyone fell silent immediately, only to start questioning her all at the same time a second later. Thankfully, Freja managed to command some order, so poor Runa was not scared away. Slowly, with understandable fear, she began to tell what she knew of their plans.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

_Heart of our home_

_Mothers and fathers_

_Who will be their child?_

_Which one of us_

_will be chosen for them?_

_None of us know_

_Yet we all still knows_

_One day it will be_

_time for our births_

_and be part of what_

_can be created_

 

The singing seemed to become higher and more clear now. They must come closer.  

“Ow!” Celebrimbor hissed in pain, dumping his head against the stone roof. He and Narvi had managed to find a small tunnel where the song came from, but neither one had it easily to climb though it. His height, and her adult Dwarven body did not really fit, as if the tunnel was not meant to climb though.

“You alright?”

“Yes...just got a reminder that it is not wise to...whoa!”

Suddenly the stones in front of Narvi gave away, and she would have fallen along if Celebrimbor had not grabbed her arm in time.

“Careful! That was close…” he said, as she tried to calm down her fast-beating heart from the shock of nearly falling. Slowly, she could breathe normally again. As Celebrimbor looked over her head, he saw something that he clearly had not expected to see:

A stone chamber, so big that he could not see the roof even with his elven sight.  In the center, a huge crystal statue of a Dwarf dressed in royal robes and a crown stood, a waterfall falling from the cupped hands as it created an underground river at the feet to slowly vanish into the mountains somewhere. And the small flashes of light around the statue everywhere…

The shape of Dwarflings, from toddlers to somewhat older in age, the oldest ones just on the brink of adolescence.

“This…”

“By the Maker...this is the _sacred spirit chamber_ where only the Priests and Priestesses of Mahal is allowed to enter! The chamber where the souls of yet-unborn Dwarflings are said to await their birth! It is not allowed for anyone else to be there, ere they may disrupt the souls!” Narvi gasped as she realized what it was, trying to push him back into the tunnel. Although Celebrimbor had no idea what she really talked about, he could understand that those spirits was not to be around normal people.

“Ow, ow, take it easy, it is hard to look over my shoulders...oh?”

A white-shining little soul had suddenly showed up in the hole where they were, both having a feeling of a pair of eyes looking straight at them. Then, the soul took shape of a little girl with long, flowing hair, kneeling in front of them. It was impossible to guess what sort of colours she would wear on her body in life, but it was something odd about about her. She seemed to be rather slender for a Dwarven child, and there was an unusual look in her eyes. Then, with a surprising joyful smile, she attempted to pull on Narvi's arm despite the understandable result of her small hands simply moving through her arm.

“A little hard choice...it is either into the chamber or risk getting stuck in the tunnel here…”

Narvi sighed deeply, before carefully climbing out from the tunnel and entering the chamber. Celebrimbor, being taller than her, had a little more trouble but he managed as well. There they stood, beating the dust off their clothes, while exploring the awe-inspiring place they found themselves stuck in out of wide open eyes.

Neither her nor him were in doubt about the fact that this place was not meant for them to be here - neither willingly nor by chance. They both knew, they should most probably search for a way out, but the beauty of the place and its sacredness left them motionless, forgetting about time and space for a felt half eternity.

No commoner and no royal had ever set a step into this chamber, not since the days when thousands of eager hands had been busy to create this miraculous place, and exchanging a look the two intruders silently asked themselves what to do next.

 

Clearly the Dwarfling souls was excited by this unexpected visit, as several of the young souls went to fly around them both. Especially Celebrimbor seemed to be in great interest from them, as he suddenly looked like he was in a small snow storm.

“First time seeing a Elf, no doubt, and greatly confused over me not having a beard or being this tall...mind the small thing called personal space, please, young ones?” Celebrimbor said, trying to gently shoo the small souls away from his face before they blinded him by mistake. Even Narvi had to keep some of the souls away from her. The small girl, who had found them, was now sitting on a stone bench some distance away, her head resting on one hand as the belonging elbow was on her knee. Clearly she was a little different from the other souls, but it was not visible how.

“As much as it would please me to meet the Priests come here if they comes here today, it would also result in that I would get into massive trouble for bringing a non-dwarf in here…”

Celebrimbor did not blame Narvi for being worried about something like that, he recalled visiting humans and their own forbidden places for outsides or even their own people.

“First off, we needs to find an exit somewhere that does not involve getting those doors open from the inside,” Celebrimbor said with a head movement towards the closed doors in silver. As if realizing what they talked about, the souls tried to pull them along towards the wall behind the giant crystal statue. There they actually found a sort of climbing wall, possibly meant to place holy items on, but for now it could be their way out.

“Ladies first,” Celebrimbor offered as he helped Narvi get a starting point by lifting her up, using his hands as a footstep for her so she came higher up before him.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

In the royal wing meant for the royal family, Queen Dowager Freja looked like she wanted to tear something apart with her bare hands.

“That cursed old fool and his obsession with having _male_ grandchildren! Are he so blind that he fails to see how something like this is far more likely to bring an end to his House?!” she growled, opening a well-hidden capet in the wall to reveal a lot of old and well-used weapons.

“Gentlemen, be ready on possibly needing to use force. Calder may not be a warrior, but he is known to try and cheat on things no matter what they may involve. Ensure that Mimir is brought to the dungeons, and try to see what have happened to the other members of the Asar family!” she called to the present guards who had gathered in the hallway. Her two sons was quickly given a small tossing axe each, their wives having stayed behind in the healing wing with Durin and Ragnhild for emotional support for the young couple.

“Amad, are you really sure that you should go down in the mines? Given your age I do not think….” Vern started, only to be interrupted by their mother:

“I thank you for your understandable worry, Vern, but I am not bedridden yet. Frerin, you goes and look for the Asar family members, the Maker knows what Frigga may do in her worry for her family…”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

In fact, Frigga and the rest of the four Asar family members was already on their way down into the mines from different directions, Frigga herself armed with a specially designed light wooden crossbow pistol which was not too heavy for her to use even in her old age.

“ _I will not have Mimir ruin my family once again….Not after what he did to me that time so long ago!_ ”

The memories had left deep scars in her soul, especially with knowing that her own granddaughter was a target for almost the same reasons as herself once. The past could indeed haunt the present and even younger generations were rarely spared from something their ancestors may have done once.

Just imaging what sort of life Narvi would possibly have as a bride to Calder, was enough to make her blood boil in anger. Dwarrowdams was meant to be the greatest treasures of their race, not broodmares to get heirs from!

“Narvi, please be safe…!”

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Narvi and Celebrimbor had now managed to climb up to a higher level somewhere above the spiritual chamber. It seemed like the children souls wanted to ensure that they did not get lost, given how they often pointed together in different directions.  

“If my stone sense is right, we are going the right way towards an area where the mine workers are. However, it seems like we will need to cross a bridge soon,” Narvi said while she held a hand towards the stone surface. Celebrimbor tried his best to hide the fact that he did pale a bit. He was not too overfond of very high heights and bridges tended to feel unsteady for him unless they were made of stone.

“Alright…”

 

It did not calm him down in that it was a old rope bridge, and Narvi did agree that it looked very unsteady. However, seeing that they had no other way back, it had to do. Just in case something happened, Celebrimbor walked first so he could catch Narvi.

“Out of all places, it have to be that underground river under us…” Narvi mumbled nervously for herself loud enough for Celebrimbor to hear, making him recall how they first had met. No wonder she felt unsafe about huge places of running water.

“No need to worry, we are more than half-way across…!”

Suddenly Celebrimbor caught sight of a shadow from where they had come and the sound of a quickly drawn dagger, before the old bridge became loose thanks to the half rotten ropes being cut off.

“ ** _AAAAAAAAAH!!!_ ** ”

Celebrimbor managed to catch Narvi's arm in time to prevent her from falling down into the underground river, narrowing stopping his own fall with his other hand holding on to the ropes as they slammed into the stones. More than one of the small child spirits floated around in understandable panic, wanting to help but being unable to do so since they all were transparent and would only pass through a item or being of the living world.

“Ow!”

No doubt that both would have a good couple of bruises from that landing, and as Celebrimbor looked up he saw that it was the she-Elf from earlier who had cut off the ropes on her side. Even a fool would feel nervous at the situation given that they were trapped with no way to move. In fact, she even seemed more like a wraith in how her hair fell freely and wild around her, the eyes shining with an worrying light of madness as she aimed on Celebrimbor with her bow.

“No…!” Celebrimbor whispered in fear, realizing that he was an open target without even being able to defend himself. And if she managed to get an arrow straight into his chest, there was a very high risk that he would let go of Narvi as instinctive reaction.

“Be still, Khelebrimbor! And get help,” Narvi hissed in a low voice to some of the Dwarfling spirits, having also realized the danger the She-elf would cause them if she was not stopped. As the spirits hurried away to get help. Celebrimbor felt her removing one of his boots with her free hand.

“ ** _Finally I can revenge my husband and the daughter I lost in that miscarriage after the Kinslaying in Doriath…!_ ** ” she snarled, ready to kill Celebrimbor who was innocent of killing any of his kin, all because of who his father had been.

“Keep that arrow off **_my_ ** elf, ye mad-brained female beanstalk!” Narvi snapped as she suddenly threw up Celebrimbor's now free boot by using her own bare feet, getting a straight hit on the arrow and said movement also caused the She-elf to lose her balance, since she was standing foolishly close to the edge. If they just could make her fall over the edge, they would not need to worry about getting killed.

“Narvi...hold on as tight as you can…” was all Celebrimbor could manage to whisper, but she got the hint of what he planned. After that Narvi had grabbed hold of his belt to climb up slightly and then with both her arms hard around his waist, Celebrimbor did let go of the rope just as another one of the little Dwarfling spirits opened her mouth to let out a sound best described as a furious wail echoing. The she-elf was stunned by the raw, unexpected _Power_ in the sudden spiritual wail, holding her hands over her ears in a failed attempt to block out the sound.

“Damned little…”

Suddenly, the little spirit was face-to-face with her. Only now, so close up, became it clear that the little girl had blue eyes looking almost a icy blue thanks to an inner fire in her who seemed to give her a burning aura.

“ _Don't you dare HARM MY PARENTS!!!_ ”

The power in the yell so close to her, was enough to cause the she-elf getting a fatal sudden cardiac arrest, and losing her balance over the edge because of the shock the spirit had given her.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The spiritual wail echoed far away in the tunnels.

“Did you hear that?” Elrond wondered, having just heard it thanks to his elven hearing. He did not know why, but that wail did creep him out a bit for some unknown reason.

“Yes. That sort of wail can only come from one place: the spiritual chamber where only the priests and priestesses are allowed to enter. The spirits in there must have sensed that Ragnhild lost our unborn daughter and now laments that one of their kin have not been given a chance to be born,” Durin explained in grief-filled voice, mixed with anger, as they hurried along. Elrond did not doubt the sorrow the Crown prince must feel over losing his daughter, it was not just a princess lost to the Line of Durin but also a rare Dwarrowdam. The loss of a unknown Dwarrowdam in a miscarriage like this was a hard blow to the whole dwarven race.

“Not to be disrespectful right now, but I am not too fond of spirits…” Elrond muttered for himself with a shiver in memory of the wraiths that had haunted old battlefields back in the First Age unless they had answered the calls of the Halls of Mandos. Thankfully, none of the present Dwarven warriors asked why.

“Hm? What is that…?”

Without warning, several spirits showed up in the tunnel, passing through the living Dwarves and Elf in their hurry before managing to stop.

“What are you unborn spirits doing here, wee ones?” Durin wondered, getting his answer when the spirits tried to drag them along.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The feeling of helplessly falling was deeply unpleasant for both of them, yet Celebrimbor was already ready with a dagger in his free hand from his belt, slamming it hard into the massive wall in an attempt to slow down the fall. Sparks came out at the contact of steel against rock until that they slowed down to finally stop.

“Sorry....but there was no other way to escape her unless she had tried to kill me…” he explained, to which Narvi said:

“Better this than that you had gotten a arrow in the heart or head.”

Thankfully, they were not too far above the underground river now, and there was a shore with a tunnel not too far away on their side, so they could afford to jump down in the water for now. Getting wet was a small price to pay in a situation like this.

“The Maker and the Lord of Water must have some fun at a drinking party or something, both times you saves me in some manner we somehow ends up in water,” Narvi commented dryly as they walked up on the small shore, trying to get some water out of the clothes. Celebrimbor, who had sheltered his dagger in his belt again and now was pushing his wet hair out of the eyes, nodded in agreement.

“Do you have any idea where we are this time, my lady?” he asked before sitting down to take off his remaining boot so he could try and squeeze the water out of the sock, the other one already lost in the fall from above the underground river.

 

Placing a hand on the rock wall, Narvi used her stone sense once again. Thanks to that, she could tell that they were almost right under the main market place.

“This must be one of the older tunnels that thankfully is not blocked, I know that some of the water wheels in the market are being runned by a system leading from the river, so we are almost back among people now.”

“Wonderful. I hope that your family will be calmed down at seeing you return home…ow!”

Celebrimbor hissed in pain as he tried to stand up, being unable to stand properly as he had injured his bootless foot at landing into the river. His right ankle was badly swollen.

“I c-can't walk…” Celebrimbor admitted with some pain, trying to not lose balance. However, Narvi surprised him by walking over to him.

“I am not leaving you behind, if that is what you planned to suggest.”

Then, without warning, Narvi suddenly lifted up Celebrimbor in her arms, holding him steady around his thighs. For the Elf, who had not been carried in a such manner since he had been really young, it came out of the blue.

“Hey-hey, wait! Narvi, please set me back down! There is no need for you to…!” he protested loudly, too well aware of that he was blushing.

“It goes faster this way, and stop struggling unless you actually wants me to drop you literally,” was all Narvi gave in answer, being far more calm than Celebrimbor himself as she started to walk. But they had not taken many steps, before they suddenly were face-to-face with no one else than Calder.

“You again!” Narvi hissed in anger, quickly taking Celebrimbor's dagger from his belt and held it in front of her in a defensive manner without dropping the taller Elf. Celebrimbor, being held by her in a manner which allowed him to look around, thought that he could spot some half-hidden Dwarves around the river as well. If he looked close enough, their crossbows actually seemed to be aimed at him. Orders to kill any witness that might see Narvi and Calder together, most likely.

“A bride is not supposed to act like you did towards her husband…”

“Neither myself or my family agreed to that I would become a bride for the House of Frost, Calder! And there is another reason to why I can not marry into this House as well... **_half-uncle_ ** **.** ”  Narvi hissed dangerously in a cold voice and for a moment Celebrimbor could hear his grandfather's hateful words from so long ago echo in his earliest memories:

“ _...half-brother!_ ”

Judging from the extremely shocked look Calder had on his face, he had not expected her to say anything like that.

“ **Yes. Your father had the nerve of committing not just one, but** **_two_ ** **of the** **_Forbidden Crimes_ ** **two** **_-_ ** **hundred years ago: getting a underaged Dwarrowdam with child and refusing to restore her social honor by making her child his legal heir! My five years** **_-_ ** **deceased father Balder was that child!** ”

 

In that moment, several yells was heard around them, as Calder's men was attacked by Durin and his warriors. Even some of the Dwarfling spirits tried to help by blocking the sights of them. Elrond, who disarmed a warrior from his axe with some quick movements Maedhros had taught him if he ever had a short-grown opponent called out:

“Celebrimbor, please move!”

Hearing that, Narvi took the chance to escape and used Celebrimbor as extra weight to push Calder out of the way.

“Lower your head, master elf!”

Celebrimbor did so, as least as much as he could while Narvi rushed forwards into the tunnel. But Calder revealed a dirty trick he had hidden and threw a long whip around Narvi's leg, causing her to fall.

“Ah!”

As she dropped Celebrimbor in the fall, he landed slightly ahead of her on the stone floor. When both of them raised their heads, bodies aching from the painful fall, the girl spirit from before landed in front of them.

“ _Stay away from them._ ”

Her voice, tiny and barely heard in all the noise around, was cold as ice for anyone who heard her. When Calder still proved himself to not be the cleverest of Dwarves by taking a step closer to Narvi, a shrill scream in pure fury and grief was heard as a new soul arrived from above.

“ _Give me back to my parents! Give me back to Adad and Amad!!_ ”

It was another little Dwarven girl, whose violent crying as her tiny fists tried to harm Calder, was enough to reveal the classical Durin black hair and blue eyes. The miscarried little princess who had lost her life thanks to the ambition of House Frost.

“Get off me, brat!”

Unfortunately for Calder, this gave some royal guards the chance to catch him without much opposition from him.

“Calder of House Frost, you are under arrest for attempted murder of my legal wife, the Crown Princess Ragnhild and attempted forced marriage on lady Narvi of the Asar family.” Durin said in a cold voice, right before the spirit of his little daughter clinged to his chest in a crying attempt to be near the Dwarf who would have been her father. One of the soldiers had offered Narvi his cloak to cover herself with, which she had accepted while Elrond had hurried over to Celebrimbor to check if he had been injured.

“I will have to agree with aunt Maedhros here, you Fëanorians simply are impossible to keep out of trouble for too long…”

“And that shall come from someone Half-elven who is a Fëanorian in all but blood,” Celebrimbor responded before Elrond helped him up from the stone floor, one arm over his shoulder for support.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Meanwhile, Mimir was doing his best to escape through a hidden tunnel behind his house after hearing the royal guards banging on the front door. He was old, and his aching body had difficult to move without help from his walking stick those days. Being of a far sharper yet also more ruthless mind than his son, Mimir knew why things had gone south.

“That damned granddaughter of mine! We should have ensured that she never knew about the plans for her father to remarry or that she would become a queen of Durin's Folk!”

How she had managed to find out about those plans, he did not know, but he would find out once he saw Runa again. She was weak-willed front of her father or himself, had always been thanks her late mother being the same kind of character.

“Where are you going, Mimir?”

Without any warning, he suddenly found himself aimed at with a crossbow, held in the hand of the old matriarch of the Asar family. Only that this time, she was dressed in a way that revealed a slightly faded tattoo of leaves on her right collarbone. Despite the two hundred and one years which had gone since the last time he had seen that tattoo, Mimir paled in fear as he realized who she actually was.

“ ** _Yes, the same Frigga who you deflowered by false words of love despite my tender age of only 39 years old...and had to suffer the dishonor of being an unwed mother 15 months later!_ ** ”

Mimir was forced back by the power from the arrow that just left her crossbow and entering his left shoulder.

“Agh!”

Frigga fired off several more arrows, not allowing Mimir to defend himself as she injured him on non-fatal points of the body. But she did not plan to kill him, her goal was to make the House of Frost a Fallen House by legal means.

“As if I would allow my granddaughter marry into the same family who ruined me only a few months after that both of my own parents died in that cave-in…you, who were ten years older than myself, really should have recalled the Forbidden Crimes before you tricked me into your bed only to toss me away like a rag doll afterwards,” she spoke in a almost dead voice, her green eyes hard as gemstones as she glared down on the old Dwarf kneeling in pain in front of her.

“ _There is a hidden door here! He must have gone this way!_ ”

The royal guards was coming closer.

“See you at the trial, Mimir.” was all Frigga offered as an ice-cold farewell as she turned around to leave.

 

On the way back to the meeting point which the Asar family had agreed on, Frigga happened to see Loki helping another person come along. Who turned out to be Hinata, looking slightly beaten up but otherwise fine.

“Your younger granddaughter here can be pretty fierce with that frying pan of hers, madam…” Hinata gasped, having gotten two ribs broken in her earlier struggle to escape from her kidnappers.

“Good to hear that I have trained my three grandchildren well back in the Orocarni. Loki, we help this lady back to the royal family and then we will seek up the rest of our own family.”

Loki nodded to what her grandmother said, adjusting her hold of Hinata's arm over her own shoulders.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, Ragnhild had woken up in the hospital wing. While she was calmed by seeing Skadi and Tora at her side, but she needed only one look on their grief-filled faces to understand what had happened while she had been unconscious. Not saying a single word, Ragnhild turned her face the way, unable to stop herself from crying in sorrow over losing her child. Behind her, she could hear that both her mother-in-law and aunt by marriage was crying as well.


	19. Sweet revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The House of Frost falls from grace, and a new chapter in life begins...

Celebrimbor was not too surprised to hear Elrond rant about irresponsibility and cursing under his breath about how the Oath kept haunting Celebrimbor, while focusing on healing his ankle in the healing wing.

"It is in times like this that I really would like to go back in time to the Darkening of Valinor and slap some sense in your grandfather before he swore that Oath which ruined his family…" Elrond confessed in clear annoyance, to which Celebrimbor nodded.

"You are not alone in that, my friend."

 

Narvi had just gotten her minor injuries treated in another room when her mother Ala hurried into the healing wing:

"Narvi, oh dear, sweetest child! I was so afraid that you would be taken from us!" Ala cried in relief at seeing that her oldest daughter was mostly unharmed. Said daughter was not surprised over her mother's behaviour or the almost crushing hug she got caught in; there was a reason to why bride-kidnappings was seen as a Forbidden Crime among the Dwarves when it was so few Dwarrowdams born among them.

"I am fine, Amad. It was a close call, but I think we can count on that the House of Frost will lose everything they have thanks to this. Their noble status, social power, everything…"

It was true that Narvi was in a minor state of shock from what had been happening this day, but she was also filled with anger and disgust at remembering that she nearly had been forced into marriage by her own father's younger half-brother. True, there was no way Calder could have known about that his father had a elder son by another Dwarrowdam which he had not even been married to.

"Yes… the fear of them coming after us will finally end… we will no longer have to worry about the family secret being used as blackmail against us. It may become more known from now on, but no one would hopefully dare to use it to shame them. In that moment, the door was almost slammed open as Odin hurried inside:

"Sister!"

And thus Narvi found herself in another bear hug, for as a guard in training her older brother had some rather impressive strength.

"Let go of me before you cause another bruise on me, Odin, I would prefer to not having to stay in the healing wing longer than what I needs to."

He was quick to let go of her, just in time for Frigga and Loki arriving as well.

"Narvi!"

 

In a more private room for the royal family, Hinata had just finished being checked over by the healers and were now doing her best to comfort Ragnhild over the miscarriage she had suffered. Even a such tight hug as Ragnhild now was given by both Durin and Hinata, seemed to do little.

"I will not forgive them… I will not forgive the House of Frost for taking our daughter from us before she even was born!" Ragnhild almost screamed between her tears.

"I want them punished! I want them to lose their own lives for this!"

Even if it was just something she said in her grief, some of her words was true. By causing Ragnhild to miscarry her daughter thanks to the poison, the House of Frost had signed their own doom. Trying to kidnap Narvi and force her into a marriage would only make their punishment worse.

"We will ensure that, Ragnhild. It may not bring your daughter back, but it should remind everyone that attacking a pregnant Dwarrowdam is punishable with death," Freja promised from where she was standing in the door, her old face grim and showing none of the emotions she must feel in her heart over losing a great-granddaughter. Right now, she was the Queen consort of Durin's Folk; she could not show her own feelings yet.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Meanwhile, Runa had been placed under house arrest in a chamber not far from the royal apartment. Since she had been the one to reveal the plans of her father and grandfather, she had been spared the fate of going to the dark dungeons. Yet still, a symbolic silver chain had been placed around her neck, to show that she was a prisoner.

" _I knew it_ … _their plan to make me a Queen have failed. Those foolish old men who are my grandfather and father_ … _underestimating us women, was their biggest mistake. Unlike their mindset, we Dwarrowdams are neither tools for power or obedient dolls to use on behalf of our male family members._ "

Reaching up with her hands, Runa removed her face veil and then freed her long white hair from the bun she had pinned it up into earlier that morning. The large mirror in a corner revealed the same image she had always seen in her life.

"Yet… it was only after the death of my mother, as the real troubles began. As the only surviving child, born weak after a premature birth which nearly took my mother as well, they saw little use for me…"

Runa touched the burn mark around her right eye, trying to not recall the horrible memory of how she had gotten it. She planned to reveal it on the trial, to make her family fall even more from their social status. She hated to go against her own family like this, but in her heart Runa knew that it was the only way. Mahal had given her a mission she had needed nearly all her young life to figure out. In fact, the deeper meaning had only been revealed the moment she first had seen Narvi face to face two years earlier. Everything had suddenly became so much more clear at seeing Narvi as an actual living person.

"So the twilight of the House of Frost started so long ago… when no one expected it."

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next following days were very busy. More evidence in the form of notes and maps were found in a hidden storeroom behind a tapestry in Mimir's bed chamber, even a list of other unwed Dwarrowdams who rejected the offer of marriage into Frost long before Asar even had arrived to Khazad-dûm two years earlier.

 

"They really have been having the nerve of trying to have Runa as a royal bride ever since it became clear that she would survive her premature birth?!" Vern almost shouted in fury, just barely holding in his anger enough to not slam his fist on the table. From the look of his face, Frerin was having a similar anger in his blood. They may be non-identical twins, but it was in moments like this that there was no doubt how similar they could be. Their late father had been a strong king, a worthy descendant of Durin the Deathless, but it was from their mother Freja who they had inherited their mental strength.

"My sons, you both know how this trail will go. The evidence, the eye witnesses and all the older reports about their odd behaviour…they will end up as a Fallen House no matter what they try now," Freja spoke, her words quickly making them calm down. Old she may be, and most likely going to die somewhere in the coming years, but Freja was still a force to be courted on. She had more or less ruled Khazad-dûm her whole life ever since arriving there as a possible bride for her husband, and ended up as the one by his side.

"Yes, Amad, you are right."

"And causing my unborn granddaughter to be lost in a miscarriage… unborn or not, Ragnhild was as healthy as ever. She even had been given herbal teas meant especially to prevent a possible miscarriage from happening. In other words, Mimir and Calder caused the death of not only a unborn rare Dwarrowdam, but a royal princess as well. A crime of premature regicide!"

Vern was deeply hurt over that someone had dared to attack his family members in this way. Ragnhild had miscarried a daughter, Durin had lost his first child, Hinata had avoided worse injures but she was in a state of shock as well, while she had get to become pregnant Ragnhild's fate could very well have become hers too, seeing that she was Durin's concubine and thus an indirect wife of second rank.

"Aye, and they will be punished with death, that is for sure. "

 

During all of this, it became clear that Ragnhild was not fully out of danger yet. A horrible infection caused by the miscarriage threatened to kill her when it, and after that Elrond had used his healing powers to help fighting the infection off, he was suddenly gently pushed out of the healing room.

"It is not that we do not appreciate your help, master Elrond, but some Dwarven secrets are better left unseen by non-Dwarves."

That was something Elrond could understand, and when he was tasked with getting some fresh herbs to make a medicine for Ragnhild he did not protest. But before the door was closed, the Half-elven managed to catch sight of a small glass vial, with a pale white liquid inside, being given from one Dwarven healer to another. Whispering rumours in his childhood said that the Dwarves had managed to create a mysterious medicine which worked against many kind of infections, and Elrond did not doubt that it must be some kind of truth in those rumours.

"After all, I believe that aunt Maedhros mentioned something of that medicine being used by the Dwarven healers in the great battles in order to prevent the loss of too many warriors…"

When he returned with the requested herbs, having taken some extra time so they would have the time needed, there was no sight of the mysterious glass vial but Ragnhild did not have a so high fever anymore.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The trial happened three weeks later, due to the gathering of witnesses and all the evidence needing to be found. Given that it had been a attack on the royal family, and an attempted forced marriage on an unwed Dwarrowdam, it was clear that things would not end well for the House of Frost. The royal family, except for Ragnhild who was still kept in the healing wings for health reasons, was seated together along a long line with Vern as the central figure since he was the current King of Durin's Folk. All of them was dressed in either black or really dark blue and silver, the royal colours of mourning because of the miscarried princess.

"Lead in the accused."

As Mimir and Calder was led inside the courtroom in chains, it was clear that the stay in the dungeons had not been too pleasant for the two nobles who was used to a comfortable life as per their social status. Mimir looked older and more tired than ever before, while Calder seemed furious, snarling and muttering threats under his breath.

"Mimir and Calder of the House of Frost, you stand accused for…"

It was a long list of crimes, which father and son had either done together or alone with the other's knowledge. Witness was called forwards for the different crimes, and then Freja herself stood up a witness to the Forbidden Crime Mimir had committed against Frigga as a underaged orphan, telling of how Frigga had been forced to leave their hometown at realizing that she was pregnant by a higher-class Dwarven Lord who already had been betrothed when he had seduced her with fake words of love.

"I am not—?!"

Mimir was cut off by Frigga tossing something on his forehead, which revealed itself to be a miniature portrait of Balder when it landed on the stone floor. The similarity between father and the unknown son was striking, especially as Balder had inherited the dark blonde hair and blue eyes of the House of Frost.

"We have one last witness, one from your own family."

Her white hands was shaking slightly as she was led forwards, yet Runa did her best to remain calm. Even if her voice did shake a bit she managed to tell of what she had known about the plans her father and grandfather had made to make her a royal bride after getting rid of Ragnhild and Hinata. Despite the threats thrown at her from Mimir and Calder, Runa stood her ground, hinting to that she was not as passive as one may think.

"Mimir and Calder of the House of Frost, you are hereby convicted of all charges against you. You are both sentenced to death and your House shall be a Fallen House, with Runa freely entering the order of the Clanless as per her own words."

It was hard to know what seemed to shock Mimir and Calder the most, the news that they would die or that Runa would end their House by her generation. The order of the Clanless was a religious order across the different Dwarven realms, known for its charity work for poor Dwarves yet very strict about its members not being allowed to marry under a vow of chastity sworn when entering the order. That Runa chose to enter said order when she just had came of age told everyone that she would not allow the House of Frost to continue through herself in the female line.

"Bring two Clanless members and have them help Runa shave off her beard as marking for leaving her current life."

In fact Runa surprised everyone present by suddenly removing her face veil so her face could be seen in the open, showing that she was already following one of the rules for the Clanless, that female members would not wear face veils as a sign of not following custom. Two new Dwarves, dressed in simple robes of a desert-sand colour, entered and Runa went to them despite the protests of her father and grandfather. They were gentle when shaving off her beard and cut her hair to chin length. Once it was done, Runa was about to bow for the royal family when something suddenly seemed to happen to her:

She started to tremble, and one hand was held towards the burn mark on her face as she shut her eyes hard.

"Miss Runa?"

Runa opened her eyes again, but it was a different look in them now. A strangely calm look as she looked around, as if searching for someone in the room. Then, she spoke, but it was not really her own voice:

 

_Mint Bride_

_Doors shall remain your path in life_

_Opening and closing_

_Linked to the West Gate_

_Your name shall live on forever_

 

_Silver Groom_

_Blood of the fallen eight star_

_Beware of the Giver of Gifts_

_The Eye is the Fallen One_

 

A prophecy, which only a Seer could spoke. They were rare among the Dwarves, female Seers even more so. Now many realized why Runa had that burn mark, she must have foretold a warning of the fall of their House around either Calder or Mimir and possibly gotten the injury in an attempt to prevent her from having more visions.

"So that adds another crime to your list, Lords' Frost: hiding a Seer from the priests and not allowing her powers to mature under a guided training," Freja said in a cold voice, sounding like a creature of winter when she spoke those words.

"Silver groom and mint bride? Was she meaning a couple who will marry soon?" some of the present Dwarves whispered to each others since Seers often spoke in coded names rather than real ones, unaware of how Elrond paled for a moment as he too had a vision of the future:

 

_Celebrimbor standing in the great throne room of Eregion dressed in a set of icy-blue robes, yet something seemed different about him. His grey eyes seemed misty, as if he was grieving over something long lost. And the formerly long hair was now cut short to shoulder-length, hanging free along his face. Placed on his head, a crown could be seen. Not an ordinary diadem or tiara but a crown worthy to be worn by a king. Whoever might have forged it must have been of great skill and passion for his work and he must have been a master of his craft, because only a master would be worthy to forge a king's crown. Its filigree lines of silver and gold enclosed perfectly shaped gems. Emeralds of the deepest green, and the light of many candles competed for being the one allowed to get reflected by this masterpiece. Strange it was, though, that it didn't seem to be of Elvish making…_

 

"Elrond… Elrond!" Celebrimbor hissed in his ear, making the Half-elven return to the present. Thankfully, no one had noticed his odd behavior so Celebrimbor could bring him out of the trial chamber.

"I am not going to ask what you saw, if you feels it was something private or just not linked to important coming events."

For that Elrond was grateful as he was not fully sure how to explain the vision to his friend. He knew that Celebrimbor was a possible Lord of Eregion if Celeborn and Galadriel stepped down, since he tried so hard to prove that he was not like his father Curufin or planning to act like the Fëanorians in their worst moments. Besides, his hands was technically clean from blood as he never had taken part in any of the Three Kinslayings which had haunted the House of Fëanor as the years passed in the First Age.

"Well… I am not sure how to explain it, anyway…" Elrond confessed in a quiet voice, before a Dwarven guard requested them to step aside from the doors.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Mimir and Calder was both shaved clean of both hair and beard without any great caution in how the razors were handled, before getting branded on the forehead with a symbol which would exile them from the Halls of the Forefathers and never recognized as Children of Aulë.

"Bring them inside."

Two small chambers had been quickly build in the old to-be-sealed mine. Bound to hands and feet in chains, father and son was tossed into a chamber each with not too much care.

"Curse you, Frigga! May Doom fall over your damned brats to offspring—" Mimir was cut off by a cloth used to gag him, but there was no doubt that he would have attempted to scream down curses on them if he had been able.

"May the Maker forever forsake your souls and may you never return as vengeful spirits to haunt those who brought your House down." the Head Priest of Mahal spoke, as his fellow priests chattered long spells against evil spirits in Khuzdul and mine workers sealed off the openings with stone bricks and mortar, burying the last two male members of the House of Frost alive.

"Get out, get out, sealing cave-in about to happen!"

Whatever it was which the Dwarves used to cause the mine-in in order to seal off the old mine, Celebrimbor did not know. But there was little doubt about its powers, given the feeling of suddenly having the earth under the feet move as in a minor earthquake from the War of Wrath.

"And there was a new name added to the list of Fallen Houses here," Vern spoke without much emotion once the silence caused to the mine-in had died out.

 

Not many days after the trial and her entering into the Order of the Clanless, Runa had requested permission from her superiors to move away from Khazad-dûm, explaining that staying in the Dwarven city of her birth would only allow bad memories of her life to remain. As such, she and some fellow members of the Order was to travel with a group of merchants to the Orocarni where they would live with the branch of the Order who lived there in the far East.

"Ensure to keep yourself well covered from the sun, Runa, unless you want to get very painful sunburns with that pale skin of yours. And try to not use too much spices in the food when cooking for the poor, it may ruin the favour," explained Ala as she handed over a small list of useful suggestions to the albino Dwarrowdam. Since they had viewed the conflict to be solely with Mimir and Calder, Narvi and her family had remained on friendly terms with Runa and even took care to see her off.

"I will do my best, and I will not allow my past taint my hope for the future."

Runa looked so much younger with a clean shaven face, but she seemed to have gotten more sure of herself once she had gotten away from her family. Waving good-bye with one hand while sitting in the carriage, she looked up on the Gate to the home she had known her whole life until now.

"The little princess is buried tonight, right? I shall pray for that she will get a change of rebirth and a new life one day."

Even if her powers as a Seer was yet not fully mature due to the trauma caused by the burn mark in her face, there was things Runa still had been able to See as glimpses: such as Khazad-dûm, one horrible day in the future, facing a sleeping demon of fire deep in its grounds, and become a ghostly shell of its glory as a Dwarven realm.

 

The royal family held a private burial for the miscarried princess Ragnhild had lost almost a month earlier, but their subjects were able to still witness something rare in the Dwarven culture:

The spirits of the yet-unborn Dwarflings, welcoming one of their own back for the current time.

 

_Past and future_

_linked together_

_by generations_

 

_Have faith_

_and you shall_

_find what you_

_wishes for_

 

_Love and_

_Friendship_

_join together_

_creating bonds_

_unexpected…_

 

Again it was the little girl who was heard singing, and she could be seen in the Second Hall as she sang, half transparent. At her last note in singing, more of the Dwarflings appeared. Their movements seemed to mimic dance steps because some young Dwarrowdam daughters had been offered to dance by the young Dwarves. And the singing girl showed up as well, now dressed in a lilac dress and with her long hair hanging loose over her back.

 

_One day you_

_will go to_

_where I yet cannot_

 

_Fairest Dis_

_Princess of Durin_

_May the Maker_

_bless you one day_

_with the heirs_

_of your line…_

 

Holding out her hands in a welcoming move, she dragged a new Dwarrowdam daughter dressed in the dark blue colour of the royal family along. Spinning around, they passed by Orvar, the guard who had hurried to Ragnhild's help, and the spirit princess gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving. Then the spirit children vanished like mist.

"Whoever that girl is, her future parents are clearly gonna get a lovely little songbird to raise," Celebrimbor said to Narvi as they watched how the spirits left for the spiritual chamber, led by the priests of Mahal. She turned her green eyes on him, her lower face properly hidden behind the thin green veil she was wearing.

"With the House of Frost gone, I think my grandmother can finally have some peace in her mind and soul. She have wished for this revenge ever since she realized the first signs of her pregnancy with my father."

Celebrimbor nodded, if it was something he was familiar with, so was it how to a revenge was best served cold. He had done a lot of such minor paybacks to people who kept insisting that he was not to be trusted, all because of the family he had been born into.

"I do not doubt that for a moment," he muttered before emptying the tankard with strong ale in his hand, hoping that it would not be enough alcohol in it to give him a hangover in the morning.

 


	20. Doomed life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asar family gets unwanted news about one of their family members' future...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I am terrible sorry for being so late in updating this chapter, getting busy with work and other stuff in RL, explained in the A/N at the end, and just plain getting stuck in a scene until that I asked my beta-reader for help in getting rid of that writer’s block. Warning, there is mention of a rather sensitive topic from RL in this chapter.

After all the drama in Khazad-dûm, it had felt nice for Celebrimbor, Elrond and the other Elves to return to Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion again. With coming back to their normal work and duties in the Elven city, time passed. Roughly two and a half years had passed when one day Celebrian had insisted on helping her maids hang up the clean laundry. Her reasons were, as she commented; 

“We never know if I may need the skills to know housework like a common housewife just as I have learnt how to be a princess…. ah!”                                                 

Suddenly, a strong autumn wind caused the sheet which Celebrian held in, to rise into the air and drag the silver-haired princess along into a half-run since she was still holding a very resolutely hold of the sheet.

“Princess!”

“Milady, let go of the sheet before you trips over something! We can re-wash it!”

 

Too late. There was a sound of an unfortunate person getting run over, a shout of surprise, and Celebrian's attempts to excuse herself. The maids hurried forwards before stopping, finding their young mistress in the middle of removing the sheet from Elrond who had gotten it over him.

“Nice catch there, Celebrian,” Celebrimbor laughed from a balcony a small distance away, having seen the whole scene and chosen not to warn Elrond because he had wanted to see the shocked Half-elven realize that it was Celebrian who held in the sheet. Elrond gave an angry glare to Celebrimbor from where he now was free from the sheet, yet that quickly turned into a heavy blush at seeing Celebrian.

“I apologize, Elrond, we did not expect the wind to be that strong…”

And as usual, they ended up rather awkward around one another. Celebrimbor, who had seen their behaviour still not moving to the next point, mentally sulked over the scene below.

“If neither one of those two love birds starts the next step, I am going to lock them inside the same room for a whole day sometime in the future, after asking lady Galadriel for permission first so it does not come out as the opposite when they are found…” he thought with rolled eyes. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Back in Khazad-dûm, the Asar family members were returning from the day's different works in the Dwarven city. Frigga, being the oldest of them, had no trouble with mostly staying at home. It was not unheard of that very old Dwarves or Dwarrowdams ended up as “house-guards” for the family house while their family members were out at work, and different young Dwarves in the neighborhood would often come to visit for a cup of tea and some small gossip so the old people did not feel alone during the day.

“Good evening, grandma. What are you making?” asked Narvi as she entered the kitchen with some spices she had brought on the way home from work. Frigga was busy in cutting up bread buns, while Ala just had finished chopping the vegetables for the dinner stew.

“A spring stew with peas, asparagus, leek, spring carrots and onions. Just because we have moved far north and eats more meat nowadays than before we came here, it does not mean that you can avoid the vegetables as well,” Ala responded calmly before adding said vegetables into the pot with boiling water. Being tasked with setting the table, Narvi tried to avoid walking into Odin as he removed his boots in the front hall.

“Is Loki still at work?”

“No, she mentioned that she would visit the local healer for the headaches she have been having lately and might be late for dinner. But she would get some extra leftover breads from the bakery home for the poor too.”

It was seen as a waste to throw away the bread which had not been sold during the day, so baker apprentices had an extra task in taking the unsold bread with them home after work and share in evenly among the poorer working class who may not be able to afford much food for their families on their salary.

“She is a good girl, very popular among the others on the bakery. I would not be surprised if someone already have started to long for the day she comes of age and is able to marry in eight years.”

Judging from the glare Odin made at the comment, he likely was not fully ready to see his youngest sister being old enough for possible romance. Narvi gave him a light kick to the skin with her bare foot as she passed by him, her hands filled with the five plates of polished pewter and the cutlery on top.

“You cannot protect us both from suitors forever, brother, get used to the idea of that we may move out eventually.”

Granted, Narvi had still not found anyone to be her One, the soul-mate meant to be her possible husband or wife, but she knew that the Maker would let her find that person eventually. Not all Dwarves married at a relatively young age, there was many stories of Dwarrow who had found their One in old age as well, enriching their twilight years in life.

 

Sure enough, just as they had started to soon finish eating, footsteps were heard and the door opening. Going from how deeply she was breathing and the way her normally braided hair was getting loose, Loki must have rushed home. 

“I am so sorry for being late, everyone! A mine worker with a broken arm needed some extra time to get the broken bones set right again, else it would not have healed correctly, and then a young lad needed help with pulling out a broken tooth he had….” So typical of Loki, allowing more pressing cases to go ahead of her if it was serious and she did not have any serious injuries herself. 

“No fear, Loki, you arrived in pretty good time to taste the best part of the strew.” It was a small family joke between the three siblings that the last part of a soup or stew was the best part of the meal, often due to the species being the strongest there.

“The healer told me to skip work and come back tomorrow for a more in-depth investigation. He was a bit worried over some of the syndromes I showed and wanted to get help from his fellow healers as well just in case.”

“As long as you have not been infected with something serious, there is no case of worry. We Dwarves may not fall victims to illness as the race of Men does, but there are few exceptions. Hopefully your headache is just caused by working in a too noisy part of the bakery,” Ala spoke while placing a tank of ale in front of her youngest daughter.

Frigga said nothing, merely looking between Loki and the rest of the family. She was showing more signs of her high age everyday, yet it was to be expected as she got closer to her mid-240s.   

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Afterwards, when Loki saw that Narvi was first in the bathroom between their rooms, she allowed the elder sister to take her time in there. Both of the sisters were known as exotice beauties here in Khazad-dûm thanks to hailing from the Orocarni, yet Loki had no troubles with Narvi possibly being seen as the pettier sister. After all, she was twenty years older and thus more well-known for possible suitors. Being underage at a betrothal was not common, and in general only made in desperate cases when it was a very serious catastrofe happening to the Dwarven peoples. According to old surviving records from the First Age, it had been such cases in the Dwarven Clans Broadbeams and Firebeards after that the Dwarven cities Belegost and Nogrod had been destroyed during the famed War of Wrath, the early betrothals having been an attempt to ensure that their Clans would not die out.

“I finds it pretty sad that you have not found your One yet, Narvi. I know that they are not always found early in life, but it would still be sweet to see you in a wedding dress soon.”

“Or you may be the one to marry first,” Narvi smiled over her shoulder. There was no shame in that a younger sibling married first, not courting in the importance of having a royal heir married for future generations, it simply happened that way sometimes.

“Nope. I am a firm believer in that you will not only marry first, but that your skills as a stonecutter master is gonna ensure that your name will live on for generations to come.”

Narvi had to smile at that, her sister's firm belief in her skills was always pleasant. The Dwarf who ended up marrying her in the future would be a very happy brother-in-law indeed. With her charm and popularity, Loki likely already had a small list of suitors who eagerly awaited her coming-of-age when she would be able to marry.

“Yes, indeed. But let's focus on getting ready for the night now, or Amad is gonna scold us for not sleeping long enough tomorrow when we have to get up for work. Or in your case, the new visit to the healer.”

“Girls, get finished and head to bed now! Until you either move out to your own home or to a husband's, you are still going to obey the rules set up by me and your late father!” Ala called from her sewing room where she was finishing laying everything neatly in order so she would find it easier in the morning. The two sisters smiled at each other before making the last things needed before bed.   

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next day, Loki was back at the healer for the requested deeper examination he had wished to do.

“Now, miss Loki, it is mostly to ensure that it is nothing serious you may have caught. Sometimes it affects our bodies without us first nothing.”

The healer was a kind of Dwarrow, having seen a lot of things over his long life. He had taught many fellow healers over his career, and hoped that he could help this young Dwarrowdam, who indeed seemed to have an unusual health problem. In fact, Loki had mentioned that her headache seemed to be focused on the left side of her head. That had actually worried him a bit, seeing that Loki always was careful in her working place at the bakery and alway tried to avoid tripping in her belly dance so she would protect her head in the rare case it did happen.

“At what spot, roughly?”

When Loki showed with her fingers where exactly her headache came from, he actually grew worried. Enough much to the point that he set up the “Away on healer summoning”-signboard outside the doorway and then asked her to come along to the main hospital building in Khazad-dûm so he could get help from his fellow healers and did not make a mistake. This seemed to be more serious than he first had thought.

 

Despite her young age, Narvi was already very sought after as a stonecutter and could expect to have work waiting to be done when she arrived to her working place. She had grown a reputation of being particularly good in creating beautiful patterns with runes, especially those meant for protection. The Dwarven runes was said to have originated in the Elven writing system called Cirth way back in the First Age, and it had been adopted as a writing system by the Dwarves as well since its straight lines had fit their works in metal and stone better than curved writing letters. 

“Time for the final decoration…” Narvi thought before blowing off the stone dust from the pattern she was currently doing, a stone which would be part of a room wall in a new house that was currently being built for a young couple who planned to marry once their own home was finished. She was adding runes for protection, a strong home and base for a happy family to grow from.

“Miss Narvi, there is a message-runner from the main hospital asking for you, the healers there requests your presence…” Narvi did not doubt for a moment that it must involve what Loki had complained about her headache for the past weeks, some treatments needed the  permission of the adult family members if it was a underage Dwarrow or Dwarrowdam who needed said treatment, mainly because of the risks that could be involved. Even if Loki did give her consent as she was the one to be given treatment, it could still be needed with the permission from her family due to the simple fact that she was not yet of age. Younger members of the Dwarven race did not always have the same strength in body or mind as their seniors, after all. 

“Coming!” she called. Narvi finished her work and then set off to the hospital.

 

It was a bit away from her working place, but she was soon there. Asking another healer for where she could find Loki, she was directed towards an examination chamber. Her mother, brother and grandmother soon arrived as well, as her working place was the closest. 

“Now, what is all this about?” Ala asked in a worried voice, before the door was opened and they were allowed in. Loki was seated on a hospital bed, dressed in the common white long tunic which tended to be worn during examinations for modesty. 

“I am glad that you could come, I was starting to get pretty nervous by myself here…” Loki admitted with a smile that did not really manage to hide that she was a bit scared. Sighing, Frigga seated herself beside her youngest granddaughter while the rest of the family remained standing. They did not need to wait for long before the healers arrived.

“Ma’am, there is no cutting around the rock,” the chief healer began in a regretful voice. “Your daughter has a tumor growing inside her head, and its beyond our ability to remove. I’m sorry to tell you this, but the longest you can expect her to live is a maximum of five years. Cases like this rarely live longer.” 

It was as if time had stopped at those words.

Loki covered her face and bowed her head; Ala nearly choked before rushing over to cradle her daughter. Narvi however stood stock-still, unable to comprehend it. Her sister was going to die? before she lived long enough for the happiness of marriage? before the happiness of another family welcoming her into their bosom? before she even had came of age? Had not their family suffered enough, with the orphaned Frigga having to become an unwed mother to Balder when she was still underage because of Mimir’s actions and the loss of Balder when he would follow her here to Khazad-dûm?

“Oh Mahal!” she cried out, tears in her green eyes. “Why has this happened? Is it a curse the House of Frost laid on us for their fall nearly three years ago?!” 

While it was unlikely that the kindhearted Runa would curse their family, it could still have been a curse spoken with the last breath of Mimir before he finally died. In her grief anything was possible. Odin said nothing, only looked stunned in shock and disbelief. Frigga was shaking, unable to say anything.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Even on the way home the horrible truth didn’t completely sink in. Dwarves dying before coming of age was rare unless in times of great crises or fatal accidents, and it had been many generations since something like that had happened, when Morgoth the Dark Lord had ruled. Loki, too upset for conversation, simply hurried straight into her room and closed her door, muffled crying and muted screams signifying her grief.

“Let her be alone. We cannot do or say anything right now that can comfort her from the fate of dying young.” Frigga requested, understanding somewhat the grief Loki was feeling. It had been a horrible moment when she realized her pregnancy where she had borne Balder, and recalling that very young Dwarrowdams had higher risks of dying in childbirth because their bodies often was not sturdy enough. But not even this could compare to dying childless, and for a Dwarrow it seemed the ultimate curse, for children were rare and precious to the Dwarven folk.

 

With everyone going to their own places, Frigga pulled out the old cards she had used in her fortune telling back in the Orocarni. Already sensing what kind of result it would be, she still placed three of them, face up, on the table in front of her. From left to right, each card presented the past, present and future. The first card was a desert dandelion, a flower which bloomed in the springtime, symbolizing Lok’s life. The old Dwarrowdam turned the middle card, seeing the symbol for misfortune; Gold coins falling from a hand.

That meant that someone's life was about to turn for the worse, and given what they had learnt about Loki's future, she was already dreading what she would see on the right card. On the same day as Balder had died, she had tried to foresee any possible future trade contacts for him and saw the same result no matter what she tried. 

“My poor granddaughter….” Frigga wept as she held up the last card, its symbol being that of a tombstone. That was clear, even with what the healers had said before: Loki would die young, before her life as an adult even had started. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Queen Dowager Freja was no stranger to having people request for a favor of some kind. Sure, she had gotten stiffer in her limbs nowadays and thus had taken up the habit of spending most of her days in her warm bed for health reasons, but she had not expected her old friend to request this. 

“You wish for your family to be allowed to follow Frerin on this year's trade journey to Ost-in-Edhil?”

“Yes, it is mainly for my youngest granddaughter Loki's sake, though. If I have read the cards right, it could very well be her last chance to see the world before she grows too ill for such adventures.”

Frigga went straight to the point, telling her older childhood friend about what the healers had said. Once she had recovered from the shock, Freja's old mind started to work in the way it used when she planned long ahead.

“I will send over a message with a legal document with both Frerin's and my own signature to your house this evening,” she said. “Maybe even add that of my ruling firstborn as well while I am at it anyway. I might be old, but I am not planning to leave for the Halls of the Forefathers yet in a year or so.”

“Thank you, Freja. You have no idea how much this mean for me and my family.” Frigga said honestly.

“You helped me remove the House of Frost from power alongside giving you a chance to repay what Mimir once did to you, this is nothing,” the older widow dismissed with a waved hand. Frigga had to smile, this was exactly how Freja always had acted when they were young, before she had been forced to leave her hometown at realizing her pregnancy as an underage mother. As a servant entered with some herbal medicine tea Freja took for the pain in her limbs, Frigga made a quick curtsey before leaving the royal bedchamber.

“Get both of my twin sons over here to my chamber, tell them that I need a little help of theirs for a old friend of mine,” Freja requested to the servant, before drinking the medicinal tea and made a face at its usual horrible taste. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I really hate to reveal it, but the fate of Loki was originally another one, and after losing my elder brother to brain cancer on this year's Good Friday (April 14th to be precise) on all days for it to happen, this passing Easter was horrible due to my brother passing away and this felt like a way to remember him by having a character share that fate.


	21. Meeting again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling to a new place, and meetings

Celebrimbor was in the middle of helping to build a new house for a young Elven couple who planned to marry within the next years, and for the future family they was going to create in time eventually, they needed a home to call their own.                 

“There, this should ensure that the roof is steady for cold winters and hard storms,” he said while tapping a foot on the roof to check if it could bear his weight. Beside him, several other Elves had also finished their tasks on the house.                                                                                                                                                        

“The Dwarven merchants should arrive today, right?”

“Yes, I think so. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have ordered the kitchen staff in their home to be ready to make a feast when the city guards see them arriving in the distance.”        

Well, that should keep them busy for some hours, at least. The more of the house that was finished today, the less work they needed to do tomorrow. Requesting some more nails, Celebrimbor fixed the last part of the roof corner he had been working with.    

 

At the same time, a good distance away, the Dwarves were on their way. The four ladies in the Asar family were sitting together in a carriage, watching the landscape change slowly around.

“Are you feeling alright, grandma?”

“Yes, I am comfortable here, thank you for asking,” Frigga responded from where she was in the middle of a big nest of blankets, given that at her high age it may become uncomfortable if there was one hole in the ground suddenly showing up. Loki, who sat beside her, was quiet while looking out. Ever since learning that she would die within a few short years, she had been unnaturally quiet compared to her usual self and seemed to have lost some of her joy in life. Thankfully, the journey seemed to cheer Loki up a bit, even if it was little, especially as Frigga had explained it as a trip to honor Balder's memory.

“I am still not feeling fully alright with this trip…” Odin was heard saying from where he rode ahead of them.

“Odin! Try and be a little positive for your younger sisters and grandmother, okay? Even if you are not that comfortable to be around people that is not Dwarrow, it could be useful if we may need help from the Elves one day,” Ala scolded her eldest, privately thinking that he was acting too much like the city guard he had been training to become. She knew that her son was easily the most serious and duty-bound by her three children, but at times the widowed Dwarrowdam wished that he could stop being that stiff outside work. A far too serious personality could become an obstacle in life if said person was not careful, Ala had seen it happen to a neighbor while growing up, and did not wish that to happen to her own son.          

~X~X~X~X~X~X

While Celeborn and Galadriel had been mildly surprised there were five more Dwarves than the usual, all close family members no less, they managed to fix up a whole suite for the Asar family’s use as they pleased.                                           

 

The welcoming banquet was a fine feast, even by Dwarven standards as the cooks clearly had done their best with the food, even if the seasoning was weaker than what would be normal in Dwarven cuisine. But it was good regardless: crispy roasted duck with sauce, whole suckling pig, lamb chops, various chicken and bread dishes. Even fine wine and ale were served as drinks.

“Some of you are actually survivors from the First Age?!” Narvi asked in surprise as she, being seated beside Celebrian and the other three ladies of her family, had been asking a little about the ages of the elders there in the halls.       

“Yes. My parents, Elrond, Celebrimbor and several others…”    

She pointed out various Elves around the Grand Hall, telling what she knew how they had survived the War of Wrath and what they was doing now.  

 

Once the welcoming banquet was over, Frigga stood alone out on the wide balcony. The view was unfamiliar, yet she felt oddly calm by it. The journey was the right thing to do, she felt that in her heart.        

“Balder, I am sure that you would agree with me about this. You and Ala was married for only a century, but during that time, our family was blessed with three wonderful grandchildren. You will live on by them, in our memories, even if poor Loki will have a short life, and we shall all one day be reunited in the Halls of the Forefathers.” she spoke to herself while touching a small silver locket which held a tiny lock of hair from when her son had only been a few days old after birth.   

~X~X~X~X~X~X

While this was only the second time Narvi was in Ost-in-Edhil, she still thought that the elven city had changed a little since her first stay there. Maybe it was changes Elves would not find much about, but for a Dwarf it was easier to spot.

“Their markets are a bit similar to those at home in our birth town, only that it is different surroundings,”  Loki said behind her face veil, looking around in wonder. She even sounded more like her old self than what she had done in the past months since they had learnt about her shortened life-span.

“I had that feeling as well, the first time I saw the market. That it seemed familiar somehow.”

Naturally, the two Dwarven sisters did draw attention as they walked past the market stands, not just because of still wearing their Eastern-styled clothing despite having moved to Khazad-dûm, but also from the fact of that few non-Dwarves ever saw a Dwarrowdam at all.  

 

By Dwarven standards Eregion was a unusual place, filled with wooden arches and birdsong instead of the ringing of hammers and the deep tones of Khuzdul mining songs. Yet it was exciting to see the open sky and the cultural difference between the Elves.

“Oh, look at that fine cloth!”

Narvi allowed Loki to rush over to a stand where rolls of cloths was being sold, her sister loved unusual designs and would most likely try to find something for their mother to sew new clothes off. Well, they needed to make new dresses for their belly dance performances so perhaps it was not so strange at all. Judging from the sounds, she had already started on trying to get a roll of cloth for a lower price. Loki had inherited some of their late father's tight-fist in money and often tried to get things without needed to pay extra money.

 

Celebrimbor could see the two Dwarrow sisters in the distance, the new house was not too far from the market, and the younger one proved herself pretty enjoyable to watch as she slowly managed to beat the poor cloth-seller into giving up several fine rolls of rare silk.

“Seems like my granddaughters are nice to look at, huh?”

The unexpected deep voice made everyone jump in surprise, and Celebrimbor was not the only one to drop his building toys. It was Frigga, calmly standing below the half-finished front door of the house, looking up towards them.

“Well, Dwarves are rare to see here…”

“Oh, spare yourself poor-worded excuses and keep working on what you are doing up there, lads,” she said, kicking the wooden pole as she spoke. Thankfully it remained steady, but it still proved that she was not afraid to make people focus on what they were meant to be doing.   

“Stubborn old lady,” Celebrimbor muttered, now recalling her as the matriarch of the Asar family which Narvi belonged to. She had aged a bit since he last had seen her, now spotting a full white beard and hair set up in a elegant bun of small braids. Yet there was next to no signs of arching limbs which could happen to Dwarves in old age, nor the signs of food and ale affecting her waist. In fact, she was nearly as slender as her two granddaughters expect that she had the signs of having borne a child and thus never had truly become as slender as before her pregnancy again.

 

Ala, as well, had found some fellow seamstresses among some Elven ladies and were now busy exchanging knowledge about different patterns and fabrics, much to the annoyance of Odin. He had something of the classical distrust of the Elves, and had been the only family member to openly protest his grandmother's rather shocking idea that the whole family would come along on this journey. (Which had earned him a well-aimed hit in the forehead with one of Narvi's biggest silver earrings she owned). For now, he kept his thoughts to himself, mumbling something grumpy into his beard and arms crossed over his chest.

“Odin, if you are going to keep glaring at people, I am not going to get some new pattern here,” Ala warned her son at spotting how he seemed to glare at the She-elves. Thankfully, their attention was caught by something else;

“Should that Elder be so close to the busy street over there?” Celebrian asked nervously, using a gender-neutral term since she was not sure if it was a Dwarf or Dwarrowdam.

 

By now, Loki held several rolls of silk in her arms and had been talking with Narvi over which one they would use to sew a new dress to Frigga with, when the older sister saw the same sight as Celebrian, though from another direction.

“Grandma, wait!”

Frigga, who was muttering for herself and busy in trying to find a special card among her tarot cards, seemed to not care that she now entered the busy street. Thankfully, several of the Elven riders and cart drivers managed to avoid run her over, though one cart ended up crashing into a pillar beside the street because of the very sudden turn-around the driver needed to do.   

“Ah, there it was! That card for good fortune was hidden near the bottom of the deck!”

If not for holding the silk rolls, Narvi and Loki would have facepalmed over the chaos on the street once the dust had laid down. Their grandmother was a character of her own, indeed, as long as they could remember. It had not changed much in her old age, despite losing her only child and soon would follow him to the Halls of the Forefathers.  

“She will be missed a lot when she joins Adad…” Loki said, making a clear point of not mentioning her own fate. Narvi could only nod in agreement, then looking over her shoulder to seeing Ala trying to make Odin wake up from the fainting he had done in shock over what his grandmother had done.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Elrond was enjoying a calm day at his healer office, something rare during summer time thanks to all festivals and events which often happened when it was warm and sunny.

“Hm?”

A knock on the door made him take a break from the tea, and he got up to open in case someone needed his help. When he opened the door, it took him a few moments before he did recognize Narvi and her sister, along with their grandmother. Sensing that they may not wish him to talk, he backed a few steps to let them enter.

“Is there any problem for you on the streets?”  

“No, but I remember lord Khelebrimbor mention that you were a skilled healer despite that you are young by Elven standard.” Narvi responded as Loki borrowed a small free table to place the fabric rolls on. Now that caught Elrond's attention, and he swiftly closed the door.

“Please tell what the issue is, my ladies.”

 

Soon he was holding his hands above Loki's head as she tried to part as much of her hair as possible above the spot where the tumor was most likely growing, a gentle glow coming from his palm.

“I have to say that not even my healer skills is able to remove the tumor, but I have managed to make it grow slower at least. Even if it may only gain a few months of life for the longest…” he confessed with a bitterness in his voice which betrayed his own disappointment in being unable to save a young life.

“Every day that I manages to stay alive is one day more with my family. I do not think Adad would be too joyful over that his youngest child is the first one to join him there,” Loki said with a nod towards her grandmother, who with her highest age normally would be the family member to first arrive to the Halls of the Forefathers.

“Fair point, miss Loki, and I shall see if I can try coming at least once to Khazad-dûm and treat you further in this manner. I still have a unused invitation to discuss the difference between Elven and Dwarven medicine with your healers.”

As Loki re-arranged her hair into the smaller braids again, Elrond listened with interest on what Frigga told him of home-made medicines Dwarven mothers would do for their children in the rare cases they were stuck by a simple illness like a cold or stomach ache. He even took care of writing it down, in case it could become useful one day in the future.  

 

Once her granddaughters had left the house to look at the market again, Frigga pulled out her deck of tarot cards.

“Would you like to try a little future-telling, my lord?”

Elrond had heard about that unusual way to try and predict the future, but he had never seen it himself until now. Following her instructions, he pulled out three cards, which Frigga placed face-down on the table between and turned the first one on the left.

“The Wanderer. It symbols a past where great changes in family once was made, and moving from one place to another when a person is young. Is that right?”

Elrond felt a pang of old regrets in his heart when he realized the deeper meaning of it: the Third Kinslaying.

“Yes. My birth parents were separated from me and my twin brother when we was still young children, and we were taken in by Celebrimbor's only living relatives at that time, his uncle Maglor and aunt Maedhros. They raised us to adulthood, just before the War of Wrath started.”

The last two Fëanorian siblings had ended up more as parents to the Half-elven twins than their own birth parents ever had been. Eärendil had been gone long times as a sailor, and as loving as she had tried to be, Elwing had been haunted by the Silmaril and in the long run, been unable to hand it over to spare her people.

“Family relationships can be trouble indeed. And this is coming from a old Dam who still remember how it is to be tricked into a bed as a underage lass and then cast aside like a rag before I soon realized that sole night had bore fruit.”

Elrond was wise enough to not say anything, remembering the hidden feud between the Asar family and the House of Frost roughly three years ago. It had told him about the very serious, flat out deadly dangers of a blood feud happening between Dwarves. If anything, outsiders made a wise choice to stay out of them.

“Now, the middle card which symbols the present...a Wheel of Change. That means your life is stable currently, a good sign, but also that seems to be big changes in the coming centuries for you, some joyful, others less so.”

Well, that was something Elrond had almost expected, given how things had been in his life so far. He watched as Frigga turned the last card:

“Oh, this is a rare card to be given; The Mirror. It tends to symbol two sides of life, often a warning that the person in question is going to need to choose between the two sides in a very difficult choice. It is very faint and unclear, but I get a strong feeling that the choice in question involving a child,” Frigga said, and Elrond felt something akin to a dooming foreshadowing. With Elros choosing mortality instead of becoming an immortal Elf, Elrond knew much about how it was to lose someone you had shared your whole life to eventual death, even if it were a Gift. If he ever had children, he hoped that they would stay together and not end up separated from each other.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Back in the suit that the Asar family had been given for their stay, Odin was muttering for himself where he, under strict orders from his mother, was resting on top of his bed in case he had hurt his head from the earlier fainting:

“I swear by the Maker, that grandmother Frigga is slowly growing more and more senile every day…”

A nearly-finished knitted little ornament cushion was tossed at his head as a warning.

“Watch your mouth, Odin, and do not speak about your grandmother like that. She has always been of different stone than others, just like your sisters,” Ala warned him without looking up from her knitting, using a Dwarven saying of those who did not fit into the normal ways of Dwarven culture. Her son snorted, but kept quiet. He might be the man of the house since Balder's death, but it was hard for him to be taken seriously by the four female family members given how strong-willed everyone in the family were.

 

In the next moment, two different sets of footsteps were heard coming to the main room:

“Amad, look what lovely silk rolls we found! I managed to lower the price thanks to the tricks Adad taught me!”   

Loki was in a good mood, despite that Elrond had not been able to cure her from the tumour. But as she had said, every day she managed to spend with her family was a day more to be blessed.

“My, what a beautiful set of colours you found, dearie.”

Indeed it was, a colour closest to the lightest ice blue Ala had ever seen in a fabric, and another one in mint.

“I thought that they would match me and Narvi for a set of dresses to important events. Crown princess Hildegard and Lady Hinata is both expecting to give new life to the Line of Durin next summer, for example.”

The birth of possibly not just one, but two heirs to the throne with only a few weeks between the births was something that would catch the whole Khazad-dûm in a euphoria fasting for weeks. And for a good reason, every birth among the Dwarven race was a symbol for that they would live on for the next generation. And it was especially important for the Dwarven Kings to sire children which would inherit the throne and kingdom.

“True enough about that...where is grandma?”

Realizing that Frigga must have gotten behind, Narvi took the task to find her.

 

Back outside on the streets, Frigga had just walked into Celebrimbor and stopped to talk a little with him. Nothing special really, but she was fond of this Elf who had saved her oldest granddaughter from two various grim fates for a Dwarrowdam, and all that in the span of less than five years! It was almost sad that he was too tall and too skinny according to what Dwarves saw as a good body shape, not to mention that he was even more bare-cheeked than a newborn Dwarfling, but he was muscular like all blacksmiths tended to become thanks to their work, and did not look too bad for an Elf in terms of appearance. In fact there was something more masculine in his features than the androgynous looks most Elves had outside the very faint hints to their gender.

“If you ask me, diamonds fit better with gold, for the colour contrast. It works well with silver too, but you need to think of the hair colour on the wearer. No one would want their jewelry to vanish into their hair!” Frigga suggested when Celebrimbor admitted some difficulty in creating a gift for Celebrian on her begetting-day later that summer.  

“I thank you for the tip. It is hard at times to come up with new designs after a while.”

“Then you should spend some time in Khazad-dûm. That may cure any lack of ideas you have,” a voice remarked from behind him. As Celebrimbor turned around, he saw that it was Narvi and gave her a light bow in greeting.

“Any such invitation would be an honor, lady Narvi.”

It was then, as he also saw that Frigga had dropped a card on the ground without noticing it and picked it up. Celebrimbor would have given it back to the elderly Dwarrowdam, had not Frigga already been on her way to leave.

“I can take it,” offered Narvi with her board hand reached out towards him. As their hands touched, if so only for a moment, over the card, both suddenly blushed and each took a step backwards, awkwardly as a set of younglings fearing to be discovered.

“I w-will see you another day, lady Narvi!” Celebrimbor said and hurried away, the tips of his pointed ears all red. As for Narvi herself, she found herself unable to say anything in return.  

 

Frigga had not gone too far, thankfully, and the face veil hid her reddened cheeks as Narvi gave back the card she had dropped.

“Oh, I must get a new pouch for the cards, the current one may be too worn out if I keeps losing cards without seeing it,” Frigga spoke in slight worrying at realizing that she had almost lost a card.

“Indeed,” Narvi muttered, not seeing her grandmother in the eyes. However, once her back was turned, she failed to see the small smile on her grandmother's face as Frigga turned up the card to reveal the image of two hands holding each others under a ring, the symbol of Marriage.     

“A good omen for you, dear granddaughter of mine, even if I may not be present at the big day,” Frigga thought for herself with joy over finally getting a somewhat positive response about her family's future lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Elrond is a good healer, but I think even he has limits to what he is able of doing with a patient that will die from cancer. Add in the fact that Elrond also is younger here than his canon appearance as the Lord of Imladris in the Third Age, he still need to update his skills even if he already have grown a fame as master healer and even he may back off from doing a very risky surgery where his patient risks end up dying from blood loss or something similarly fatal that could happen during the operation. There is also a possibility that Elrond may not even know much about cancer, given that Elves does not get ill in a such manner and he may have a limited access to mortal patients if he lives in a fully Elven place.


	22. The meaning of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life id both joy and sadness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This chapter got very delayed for various reasons such as getting stuck at one scene, struggling to get last it, and for me having various other stories that I write, both my own and those I am co-writer of. Can not promise new chapters regularly, unfortunately.

As far as Narvi could tell, the past days in the Elven city seemed to help Loki regain some of her more happy mood. Granted, her depression over dying young was unlikely to vanish in a heartbeat thanks to a change in surroundings, but it would help keep her from dwelling on it.                                                                              

“Amad and grandma still tries to keep Odin from insulting our kind hosts, he really has spent too much time with the city guards and their views,” she commented. At the moment, Narvi and Loki had been tasked with repairing some of their grandmother's clothing since it was a good time to train on sewing. Both were good, of course, but it was finished faster if they worked together.

“Our brother sometimes is too serious for his own good.” Loki agreed as she sewed a new embroidery in the shape of a lucky charm. Narvi, who was finishing a pattern Frigga liked to have on her dresses.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

~X~X~X~X~X~X       

 

More than one of his co-workers in the forge had noticed that Celebrimbor seemed to be a bit distracted today. So far he had managed to avoid any injuries, but they still kept a eye on him if something did really happen.

“He rarely acts like that normally...I wonder why.”

“Maybe his heart have finally been caught.”   

“Better hope that it is someone who can see past the deeds of his family. I think there was some Elves from the very far Eastern lands visiting here some years ago.”

Celebrimbor tried to not care, such rumours had haunted him before and would likely do in the future as well. At the current moment, he honestly was unable to imagine himself happy married with a family of his own. The deeds of his father, uncles and aunt refused to leave the Elven memory, unlikely to ever be forgotten.

“Celebrimbor, can you help me with something?” Celebrian called from the front door to the forges and he had to focus on her.   

It turned out that Celebrian had broken one of her favorite necklaces by mistake this morning when she had knocked over her jewellry box in a attempt to block a fall to the floor by a slippery mat. Her house maids had been terrified over nearly indirectly harming the daughter of their employer and had apologized several times over in worry that Celebrian would be angry on them.

“I see. Well, I can fix this and have it ready to be worn again by the afternoon. It is not a big damage, so no need to worry.”

“Thank you! That necklace is one of the few heirdoms Ada managed to save from Doriath, and I would hate to let him down by having it ruined beyond repair…”

Celebrimbor said nothing at the mention of Doriath, he knew that Celebrian had not meant any harm with it. Besides, he could agree with her about remaining heirdoms that was had a lot of emotional value.      

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

 

This day, the two Asar sisters took a chance to show the step in how to do a belly dance for some Elven ladies who had spoken about wanting to see it.

“The point of this kind of dance, is to be very nimble and agile. It may seem like any normal dance, but if you are able to moving your body in various ways, it could end up saving your life.”

To show what Ala meant, Narvi and Loki first increased speed in their dance before moving in a very different manner which strongly resembled real fighting. Not touching each other, stopping just a few inches from the skin before moving back. Despite that the Elves were unfamiliar with it, they could see how it could be useful in a possible attack.

“It may seem brutal, but not all men-folk are nice gentlemen that will treat a lady with respect.”

That much was true, it was not unheard with things going ugly in the city taverns if human merchants had a bit too much of alcoholic drinks. Deaths had managed to be avoided, but it was pretty common with having to wake up in a prison cell the next day and with next to no sympathy from the Elves about the hangovers either.

“Alright, who among you young ladies want a drink?

 

As Celebrimbor entered the tavern where Celebrian had said where she and her friends would be that afternoon, he was a bit surprised to see them being with the ladies of the Asar family. Even more unusual was seeing the ladies trying to have a drinking contest. He could tell that Celebrian was mostly sober, she rarely had more than a maximum of four glasses when alcohol was involved, though her poor friends had gotten a lot more into their glasses, it seemed.

“Celebrimbor! Come over here and join us!”

Ordering a tank of beer, Celebrimbor joined them at the table.

“Having a drinking contest?”

Several nods in response.

“Oh yes, we were just talking about how many glasses one of you Elves could maybe stand to drink against a Dwarf,” Frigga smiled over her own tank.  

“And you thought that the young ladies would be scolded by their parents if they returns home, being drunk?”

“Yes. Oi, big brother, come over here for some help!” called Loki in a cheerful manner that no one but her family could guess to be the start of a prank. Normally, Odin would have refused, had the whole family not been present in a public place like this.

 

Sure enough, soon Celebrimbor and Odin was busy in the drinking contest. Clearly Odin was no stranger to this kind of challenge, though Celebrimbor made a point of drinking slower, a race in eating or drinking was just an invitation to getting nausea very quickly.

“This will be fun once the alcohol starts working. Get a little faster, boys!” Loki said in a loud voice, hinting to that she was not exactly sober herself and Ala patted her youngest child's head as a silent hint to lower her voice.

“Who is the drunk here, sis?” Odin commented, but the slight sludder in his voice revealed that he was started to get affected. Celebrimbor himself remained quiet for now, since he wanted to see how this went.

It seemed that despite the Dwarves' famed high level for alcohol, Odin were not among them, given that he soon got drunk enough to trip over and remaining on the floor.

“Is he alright?” Celebrimbor asked nervously as he set down the wine cup he had been half-way through when Odin fell over, and Frigga checked on her grandson.

“Nah, more like that he is unfortunate enough to have inherited his maternal great-grandfather's sadly low ability to drink much, from what my daughter-in-law have told about her family members. He will mostly complain about the hangover tomorrow morning.”

Given her high age and knowing her own limitations nowadays, Frigga tied her leather belt around one of Odin feet and started to pull her grandson along the ground since he were too big and heavy for her to carry now in adult age.

“Narvi, Loki, where are you….oh, girls, what are you two up to now?” Ala said at seeing what her daughters were doing.     

Narvi and Loki had gotten themselves up on a table, using their belly dancing steps to show off the rarely mentioned grace of the Dwarrowdams, much to the enjoyment of those who had watched the drinking contest and hoped for some more entertainment. Their dresses were fitting for such movements as well, and their long hair helped to hide their faces alongside their veils. If not for the different colour and embroidery details on each dress, only Narvi's taller height and the difference in their eye colour would have been the only way to tell them apart.

“Oh, I think all three of you youngest family members have had a bit too much of a fine drink now.”

With surprising ease, Ala took a steady hold on her two daughters around their shirts and lifted them back down on the floor without even missing a beat or movement of their dance, a sign of that this were not the first time she had done anything similar during her motherhood.

Celebrimbor made a point of bidding them goodbye for the evening and holding up the door to Frigga, so she would not have to struggle despite dragging her grandson after herself. Ala held a firm hand on a shoulder each on her daughters, guiding them to follow after her mother-in-law.   

Once the Dwarven family had left, Celebrian looked at him as if checking for possible signs of him being affected by the alcohol.

“Well, that was a unusual evening, indeed. I do not think I ever have seen you taking part of a drinking contest before.”

“I am not too fond of such things. Too much of strong drinks can mess up both common sense and cause long-lasting harm if one is not careful,” Celebrimbor answered in a displeased voice.

He could remember his father Curufin become broken and more cold-hearted after the death of his wife Astarë, giving up her own life to held off orcs, an act to give them a chance to escape to Nargothrond, after Morgoth had broken though the Siege of Angband and attacked the northern realms held by the Noldor. Curufin had not shown it in public, but he had started to drink worrying much in a attempt to numb the pain of losing his wife. And his uncle Celegorm, while avoiding the bottle given how he did not want it to affect his hunting and warrior skills, had become dangerous in his wish for revenge after the whole history with Luthien and her choosing Beren, a mortal, over him.

“ _Uncle Maglor managed to send a coded message to me that my father were a broken wrench at the time of his death...that the alcohol broke down the cunning mastermind he once were known for...._ ”

No, Celebrimbor would avoid high-alcohol drinks entirely if he could, and already had a habit of only drinking one single glass if he were offered one. He did not want to think of how his father must have been, not when recalling the old glory of his family and how the Oath had destroyed them.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

As expected, Odin did suffer from a horrible hangover the next morning. His sisters were slightly better off, since they had not been part of the drinking contest.

“Why did I inherit that low tolerance for alcohol…” he moaned while Frigga pulled back the curtains so that the light of the morning sun lit up his chamber  

“Someone in the family had to, you simply were the unlucky one in drawing the short stick on that. And here is a extra cushion from your mother.”

If anything, Odin felt this morning become even worse at nothing that there was a second layer around the cushion, perfectly hiding the first layer in which Ala had embroidering the words:

 **_Quit embarrassing yourself in public, schlemiel_ **    

 

Out of habit, Narvi ended up helping Loki braiding her hair in a hairstyle that had been popular in their birth town but requested a second person to help.

“Look, this is the true beauty of our family.”

She knew that her sister's depression were lurking there under the surface, threatening to take over and ruin the remaining time Loki had in the living world. Among the Dwarves, depression were taken seriously since a untreated mental illness could have negative consequences to the point of deadly danger if the suffer ended up committing suicide or harmed innocents.

“Thanks, sister,” Loki tried to smile even if it did not really reach her black eyes, which had been so full of joy and life once. She did not say it, but it was clear as day that she hated the reality of dying young.

“Listen, Loki. Even if you are the first one to join Adad in the Halls of the Forefathers rather than grandmother, you will still be able to meet far more people from both sides of the family, You will even meet the Maker, and what if you happens to find your One there?!”

Loki looked down on her hands in her lap.

“And what if he or she refuses me because I entered the Halls without being of age?”

Now Narvi started to actually be annoyed. It was extremely rare for her to disagree with Loki over something, but there were no way she would allow her sister's last months or years alive be haunted like this!

“ _Look at me in the eyes, Loki. In the Halls of the Forefathers, such details are unlikely to matter much, since we all will die and end up there eventually. Besides, how does we even know that someone os our One? How do we not know if our One is alive, will yet be born or already in the Halls due to possibly being a older generation than ourselves? Not even the priests of our Maker knows how to answer those questions, if we were to ask. Look at our grandmother, who knows what kind of life she might have had, if she had not been dishonored with an underage pregnancy and needed get away from the Blue Mountains before her condition revealed itself with time? I would not be surprised that by the time I enters the Halls, she will have found a spiritual husband there, someone who could be a true paternal grandfather and honorary father to our Adad._ ”

At least that was what Narvi hoped. Her father had been having many good father figures from people around the small family growing up, but she knew of how much Frigga had struggled as a young, single mother without a husband in sight. Not even when moving to Khazad-dûm, had Frigga found a nice Dwarf to enrich her remaining years rather than her youth and prime.

“...that is true…” Loki finally said in a low whisper withy slightly less sorrow than before, realizing what her older sister tried to explain as best as she could, even if it ended up sounding odd. Most people thought that Narvi focused most on her works and craft, since she had yet to find a suitor she liked enough to become a husband.

“Narvi, Loki! It is time for breakfast, please come down to the dining hall to eat!” their mother called, and the sisters nodded to each others before leaving the chamber where Loki slept.

 

Soon it would be time for them to return to Khazad-dûm, their stay here in the Elven city drawing towards its end.

“I am thinking of asking Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel if they would mind allowing some of their smiths and jewel-workers to come along to Khazad-dûm for the following year or so,” prince Frerin spoke once everyone present at the Dwarven table had finished eating. Some of them were somewhat doubtful over having Elves being in their realm much longer than unusual while others liked his idea.

“And what is the reason, my Lord?”

Frerin almost looked insulted by the question.  

“Simple. Strengthening the alliance between Eregion and Khazad-dûm. Who knows when this alliance can be needed one day? Against a possible enemy that could threaten us?” 

For some odd reason, Frigga had a feeling of omen in the back of her mind. She did not have her tarot cards with her at the moment, but something told her that Frerin were right; one day Eregion and Khazad-dûm would indeed need each other against a shared threat at some point in the future, but she could not tell when, only that it was bound to happen eventually. The old Dwarrowdam could only pray for that it would not happen while her grandchildren lived.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Back in the First Age, as per the stories in the Silmarillion, Celebrimbor disowned his family after seeing how they slowly entered a more darker path that would end up leading to their deaths. There is no clear mention of Curufin's wife from Tolkien writings outside that Curufin were married with Celebrimbor as his only child, and Astarë is the name I have chosen to give her in my stories. Anyone who knows how it is to be in a really bad situation, might know how tempering it could be to down your sorrows in alcohol to try and forget the pain, which is my guess on how Curufin may have reacted on losing his wife and being disowned by his son could have done that even worse. 
> 
> And the inspiration for Ala's secret way of scolding Odin over the drinking match, comes from a mentioned headcanon idea about Thorin Oakenshield's paternal grandmother from the tumblr of the writer to the Hobbit/LOTR fanfic Sansukh.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Yes, it was Professor Tolkien himself who made a guest appearance as Ilúvatar. And yeah, poor Námo is not too pleased over the chaos that happens in his Halls with Finwë's many different descendants for several reasons. Finally, many warm thanks and hugs to a special Facebook-friend from Finland, whose small and very funny drawing gave me the inspiration for poor Námo constantly being awoken at 3 o'clock in the night because of a new fist-fight between Fëanor and Fingolfin in the Halls


End file.
